


darkly

by Rivendell101



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Beauty and the Beast Elements, Clubbing, Coitus Interruptus, Curses, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Frottage, Hook-Up, Male Solo, Masturbation, Masturbation in Bathroom, Protective Sweet Pea (Riverdale), Slow Burn, Succubi & Incubi, Supernatural Elements, Sweet Pea (Riverdale) Being an Asshole, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2020-12-01 20:57:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20897363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rivendell101/pseuds/Rivendell101
Summary: When they meet at a club on a Friday night, that’s where it should end. An easy fuck. Hands in the dark. A quick release. But when she dreams about him that night the marks left behind are all too real. Violinist Jubilee Jones had no intention of beginning a torrid affair. Sweet Pea never meant to grow attached. And the insatiable hunger of a dark curse threatens to consume them both.For who could ever learn to love a beast?AKA: a beauty and the beast retelling with a (smutty) twist





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the first chapter of my new long-fic darkly! I've had this idea bouncing around for a few months now, and I'm very excited to be sharing it! This is a Beauty and the Beast AU, but it's also my excuse to write filthy smut. Let me know what you guys think in the comments!
> 
> Also, a huge thanks to @Southsidewrites here on AO3 (and tumblr) for being a great beta!

“Remind me why I’m here again?” Jubilee asks Midge over the booming club music, her nose wrinkling in distaste as a group of sweaty college students smelling of cheap beer and smoke push past their booth. Lazily, Jubilee tosses one of her legs over the other beneath the table, idly swirling her sangria as her eyes sweep the club. Despite her complaints, it’s one of the better nightclubs Midge has talked them into going to after rehearsal with the orchestra. Besides, the last thing she wants is to be at home alone on a Friday night.

Midge, never one to be anything less than blunt, shrugs. “Lydia is a shitty wing-woman,” she says, earning an eye-roll from the third member of the table, another short brunette. Lydia doesn’t bother correcting her and Jubilee softens a little as a shadow crosses Midge’s eyes, her smile slipping.

They haven’t talked about it much, but Jubilee can only begin to imagine how it must feel for a relationship spanning years to crumble into pieces so quickly. Midge and her boyfriend Moose had been dating before Jubilee knew either of them and always seemed like a happy, perfect couple until just over a month ago when it came out that Moose had been cheating on and off throughout most of the relationship. The two of them had been dating for nearly a decade until suddenly they weren’t.

Jubilee was never really friends with Midge before the three of them ended up auditioning for the same orchestra almost four years ago. Before that, when the three of them were attending Brooklyn School of the Arts, she was always just Lydia’s friend. A bubbly brunette that talked a little too fast and was nice enough; a little odd, but a damn good cellist.

She could have killed Moose for what he did.

Slowly, Jubilee raises her glass to her lips, sipping her drink to keep from saying something she might regret.

Midge snaps out of her daze and smiles brightly at Jubilee across the table. “Besides, you need to get drunk and laid,” she says cheerfully and a little too loud. Immediately, Midge starts scanning the dance floor, searching for a suitable partner for a quick fuck in the bathroom.

This time it’s Jubilee that rolls her eyes. She turns to Lydia for help.

Lydia just shrugs, already tipsy from whatever fruity, high-alcoholic drink she got her grabby little hands on. “You have been a little tense lately,” she agrees with Midge.

“Your recent dry spell is why you’ve been such a dictator at work,” Midge says, only half-joking judging by the mischievous look in her eyes.

Jubilee snorts and finishes off her sangria. “I’ve been a dictator at work because half of the string section doesn’t know their part,” she corrects sourly. Their first performance of the season is in less than a month and they’re barely ready. And with one of their first chair violins retiring at the end of the season, their conductor is nearly ready to explode.

Uncrossing her legs, Jubilee leaves her empty glass on the table and slides out of the booth. She smooths down the slinky material of her silver dress. The dim, overhead lights make the fabric sparkle and the backless dress keeps little to the imagination: exactly what she wants tonight.

“Where are you going?”

She glances at the empty glass sitting on the table. “To get something stronger than that. You’re on your own tonight, Midge.”

Midge raises her glass in a silent cheers and Jubilee makes her way to the bar, heels clicking against the floor as she goes.

The bar is crowded by the time Jubilee slides up and orders another drink. The bartender slides it her way, and she opts to lean against the counter as she sips from the glass, pacing herself tonight as she keeps an eye on Lydia and Midge.

The booming music is easy to get lost in, and the people milling around her become a blur. Eventually, her friends get up to dance, but Jubilee stays at the bar, content to watch for a while longer.

Slowly, Jubilee drags her finger around the rim of her nearly empty glass. The ice has begun to melt, and she swirls the glass in her hand, watching the lime spin around the glass. Her eyes sweep the room as she leans sideways against the bar, searching for Midge and Lydia in the mass of dancing bodies.

Midge’s cherry red dress gives them away.

Relaxing again, she stays where she is, content to watch them for now. Her second drink is just starting to hit her, leaving her hazy and a little loose, but not nearly as drunk as she’d like to be. One of them is going to have to stay somewhat sober tonight, and she feels better knowing it’s her.

Jubilee snorts as Lydia nearly topples over in her heels, the fruity drinks she had earlier making her less graceful than usual. The small brunette flushes beneath the club lights and Midge giggles, significantly less drunk than her.

A hand groping her ass from behind nearly makes Jubilee drop her gin and tonic.

Tensing, her eyes rip away from where Lydia and Midge are dancing out on the floor. The booming bass drowns out the hitch in her breathing as fingers linger near the hem of her short dress. A pair of heavy hands settle on her hips and a broad frame presses against her back, crowding her forward and nearly pinning her against the bar.

Her surprise melts into rage, and she rips away from the body pressed against her back. Whirling on her heels, Jubilee lashes out and shoves them away from her, glaring at a man roughly her age with slicked-back blonde hair and a nice button-up shirt. He wobbles slightly, clearly not expecting her to move, and she purses her lips, her eyes narrowing in annoyance.

“Nice ass, sweetheart,” he slurs. He’s already wasted, and it’s barely after midnight. He sags against the bar beside her, drunkenly cackling to himself. Blue eyes drag down her frame as he looks her over, lingering on her cleavage and bare legs. He licks his lips.

Disgust rises in her, and Jubilee’s grip tightens on her drink. Idly, she considers throwing what’s left of it in his face, but decides against wasting good gin. Instead, she ignores him and throws back the last of her drink. It burns as the lime and alcohol slide down the back of her throat. She eyes the drunk man next to her and decides that she could break his arm if she wanted to.

Delicately, she sets down her empty glass and shoves away from the bar, not casting the man another look. Her heels click against the floor as she takes a step towards her friends across the room.

A hand latches around her wrist before she can get far. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, come back, beautiful,” the drunk mumbles, the words garbled together. He yanks her towards him, his brows knitting together in confusion.

“Let go,” Jubilee snaps back at him. Her free hand curls into a fist. The hand on her arm squeezes tighter and she bristles. “I said—”

“There a problem here?” a deep voice asks from behind her, sending a lick of warmth up her spine. The hand on her arm slackens immediately and she takes the opportunity to snatch her hand back. Jubilee’s eyes drift to the new arrival and her breath hitches when she sees him.

He’s tall and broad, her eyes barely level with his chin despite her towering heels. A dark, leather jacket is stretched across his shoulders, left open in the front to reveal a tight, black t-shirt that does little to hide the lean muscle of his torso. He crosses his arms and even beneath the jacket she can see the definition of his biceps. Black ink peeks out above his collar and he’s all dark hair and dark eyes and a strong jawline, though it’s hard to see in the low lighting.

“No,” Jubilee tells him, crossing her arms over her chest when the guy that grabbed her sends her another lewd look. “He was just leaving.”

The guy doesn’t take the hint. “Oh, come on, sweetheart,” he slurs, “don’t be like that.” He takes a wobbly step towards her, like he wants to touch her again, and she wishes she’d kept her pocket knife on her. When she continues to ignore him, the man huffs. “Bitch,” he spits.

Tall, dark, and leather glares at the drunk until he slinks away from the bar, his hands curled into tight fists. Once he’s out of sight, those dark eyes shift to her and soften around the edges. “You okay?” he asks her, his entire stance shifting. He drops his arms and dips his head towards her, his voice lowering into something less intimidating.

Jubilee leans against the bar, the cool surface pressing against her bare back. “I’m fine,” she says, waving off his concern. One drunk asshole is nothing she’s never dealt with before. “But thanks for that.” Her chin tilts up as she looks at him, amber eyes sweeping over his features approvingly, deciding that he’s quite the eye-candy and just her type.

He snorts and presses his forearms against the bartop, leaning towards her. “It looks like you could have handled it yourself.”

“Perhaps.” The corners of her lips quirk up in a smile.

The stranger stares at her for a second longer, like he can’t quite figure her out, but he’s having a lot of fun trying. “Buy you a drink?” he offers, clearing his throat. “Looks like you could use one.”

Her lips press together, and her brows furrow as she considers it. Jubilee looks him over again, lingering on his strong arms and broad shoulders. “No,” she decides, a smoky look in her eyes as they lock on his, “but I can buy you one…” she trails off, hoping for a name.

“Sweet Pea.”

The peculiar nickname makes her pause, but she doesn’t question it. “Jubilee,” she replies, arching her back against the bar and giving him a good view down the front of her dress. The lights above the bar make the glittery, metallic fabric shimmer, and his gaze dips to her chest briefly.

He wets his lips. “Pretty name.” His fingers drum against the bartop, and the rings adorning his fingers catch the light, all of them silver and heavy. Briefly, she wonders if they’re for more than just decoration.

The compliment makes her shake her head, her burgundy lips curving into a smile. “That’s one way to put it,” she muses, placing her elbows on the bar and staring across the room. She finds Lydia and Midge where she last saw them, the girls still dancing drunkenly and having a good time.

“You don’t like it?” he asks, watching her. His fingers keep tapping against the counter, and the sound makes a little thrill shoot down her spine.

“Do you like yours?” she asks instead of answering. One of his eyebrows rises towards his hairline. “You don’t call yourself something like ‘Sweet Pea’ unless you have a worse name,” she clarifies, thinking of her brother and sister and the ridiculous nicknames they go by. She was lucky enough to be partially unscathed when it came to names, though ‘Jubilee’ is still odd.

His chuckle is low and throaty, and maybe it’s the gin finally hitting her, but she decides she likes the sound of it: warm and a little dangerous. “Maybe I like the mystery,” he jokes, the hint of a smile on his face. “It’s what my mom calls me,” he continues, shrugging. “She’s a florist.” He doesn’t tell her his real name and she doesn’t ask.

Jubilee nods. “So you’re a mama’s boy.”

He shrugs. “Guilty.”

She hides her smile as she turns around, waving over the nearest bartender. “Gin and tonic,” she tells them, ordering her regular drink again. She glances at Sweet Pea, looking him up and down slowly. “And a whiskey on the rocks.” She pays the bartender without another word.

Sweet Pea glances down at her curiously. “How’d you know I drink whiskey?”

Jubilee lifts her drink as the bartender slides it across the bar. Raising it to her lips, she glances up at him over the rim of her glass. “Lucky guess.”

Lifting his own drink, Sweet Pea shakes his head with a grin.

She loses track of time as they lean against the bar and talk. He tells her he’s a tattoo artist, and when he shrugs out of his jacket to reveal a muscled forearm covered in inked designs, Jubilee can’t help being impressed. She’s always had a thing for bad boys. Most of the men she knows are too clean cut and straight-laced. They’ve never been able to keep up with her.

As he tugs his jacket back on, Jubilee finishes her drink and glances around the room again in search of her friends.

Midge’s gaze meets hers from the other end of the bar where she’s grabbing another round of drinks, and her eyes widen when she sees the man Jubilee is chatting with. ‘_Damn_,’ she mouths, eyeing the tall, leather-clad hottie leaning against the bartop, all broad-shoulders and dark ink. She wiggles her eyebrows and makes a face at Jubilee, who rolls her eyes, her lips twitching in amusement at her friend’s reaction.

Honestly, she can’t blame her for it.

Sweet Pea follows her gaze and spots Midge throwing a thumbs up before she grabs the drinks and goes back to the table Lydia is sitting at. His lips quirk up at the edges, and he hides his smile behind his whiskey. The way his arm brushes against hers isn’t subtle, and Jubilee glances at him through her dark eyelashes, playing coy. He leans down so his lips are almost touching the shell of her ear. Jubilee tries not to shiver as his breath tickles her neck.

“Wanna dance?”

Instead of answering, she pushes away from the bar, feeling his eyes burning into her back until she turns again. She bites her lip as she looks at him, gaze lingering on those big hands and strong arms. Delicate fingers wander up his chest, and he smirks as her hand wraps around the collar of his coat. He follows her willingly as she leads him into the crowd of dancing bodies. 

It’s a blur of teasing touches and hot hands and lips as they move together. His touch is slow and practiced, like he’s savoring watching her squirm as his palms slide from her waist down to her hips. There’s no space left between them as her back is pulled flush to his chest. The heat of him sinks into her bare skin, and her ass presses against his hips. His breathing hitches, and she all but trembles as his lips brush against the side of her neck.

One of his hands slides down to her thigh, the tips of his fingers teasing the short hem of her dress, and Jubilee spins in his arms.

Her fingers curl around the collar of his jacket, and she pulls him down to her, keeping her lips just out of his reach as she teases him. Sweet Pea’s palm slides up her bare back, the tips of his fingers ghosting her skin where it disappears beneath the slinky material of her dress. Jubilee grinds her hips against his, and a muffled curse slips from his mouth as the growing bulge beneath his jeans presses against her stomach.

Sweet Pea grabs her hip and cups the back of her neck, lips dangerously close to hers. The scent of cinnamon and something fruity tickle at her senses, and she can practically taste the whiskey on his breath. “How much did you drink?” he asks her, stroking the back of her neck so that she shivers. His pupils are blown wide, his eyes dark with lust and bad intentions.

Jubilee takes her bottom lip between her teeth, and his gaze flickers to her mouth. The grip he has on her hip tightens just enough for her to feel it and his throat moves as he swallows. “Not enough for you to worry about it,” she tells him, rolling her hips again.

The moan that slips from his parted lips curls through her and settles low in her stomach, a feverish heat starting to spread through her limbs. Pride wells inside her at the husky sound.

Slipping out of his arms, Jubilee takes a step back. She releases his jacket, and Sweet Pea’s hungry gaze traces her curves. His fingers lace through hers as she grabs his hand and turns around, leading him through the crowd of people and towards the back of the club.

They barely make it into the bathroom before he’s on her.

The door presses against her bare back, and a shiver crawls down her spine at the contrast of cold steel and hot hands gripping her thighs. Jubilee arches into his chest, barely containing a moan as his fingers slip beneath the hem of her silver dress. The cool kiss of his metal rings on her sensitive skin is intoxicating. Her fingers clench tighter around the open front of his leather jacket, and she yanks him down to her. Sweet Pea slaps his flat palm against the door beside her head to keep himself from crushing her, the sound muffled by the pounding bass from the club.

He kisses her hungrily, lips hot and rough against hers. It leaves a trail of fire across her skin, and she trembles as his big hand squeezes her ass beneath her dress. His hips grind against hers sharply, his erection already half-hard in his jeans. Jubilee tilts her chin to kiss him harder, her lips moving against his eagerly. It’s hard and hot and dirty, and an ache forms in the pit of her stomach as he parts her lips to kiss her deeper.

One of Jubilee’s hands leaves his jacket and slides up his chest to the back of his neck, where she grips his thick, black hair and pulls. A low sound that’s practically a growl rumbles in his chest, the sound smothered by her lips, and her legs clench together as arousal floods through her.

Sweet Pea pulls away from her slowly, and Jubilee snags another kiss, nipping at his bottom lip for good measure. A groan tears from his throat as her teeth press into his skin before her tongue soothes the sting. His grip on her ass tightens, his fingers squeezing her soft skin. He rolls against her again, his cock pressing against her stomach and his breath fanning over her face.

Dark brown eyes lock with hers, and for a second, in the low lights, she swears they turn gold. She’s pinned in place as those eyes roam down her body, drinking in the sight of every curve she has: her slender neck, the soft swell of her breasts beneath her plunging neckline, her hips where her dress clings to her. Absolute sin flickers in his eyes and Sweet Pea licks his kiss-swollen lips, the sweet taste of her heavy on his tongue.

He bends to kiss her again, still towering over her despite the glittery, black heels she’s wearing, and Jubilee shivers at the thought of how easily he could pick her up if he wanted to. Warm lips smother her again, the kiss more intense than the last. Her head is forced back against the door and his chest is crushed against her own, no space left between them as he nibbles and sucks on her lips.

Rough fingers grope her ass and Jubilee pants as his mouth leaves hers to move across her jaw. She tilts her chin for him, her eyes fluttering shut as he places hot, open-mouthed kisses down to her neck. Her grip tightens in his hair, and her back arches, Jubilee desperate to get him closer, to feel every inch of him pressed against her.

His teeth dig into her neck, and she moans loudly in his ear. Electricity shoots down her spine as he sucks a bruise over her pulse. Any other day she would be pissed about someone leaving such an obvious hickey, but right now it only makes her throb. The flat of Sweet Pea’s tongue drags over the blemish, and she shivers, already sensitive and he’s hardly touched her yet.

Sweet Pea’s teeth and tongue are on her collarbone and working down her chest when the hand that’s been squeezing her ass and rocking her hips against his suddenly releases her.

Jubilee shifts, trying to press her hips back to his, the sudden lack of stimulation making her whimper, but a moan quickly smothers the small sound when he forces her legs apart and presses his knee to her wet center. The rough drag of her lacy panties against her clit has her head lolling back against the door, her eyes squeezing shut. Her thighs clench around his leg, and there’s nothing she can do to smother the small gasps he pulls from her when he grinds against her.

“Fuck,” Jubilee hisses, and he chuckles. The low, baritone of his voice goes straight to her clit, but it isn’t nearly enough. He must know it, too. Sweet Pea’s hand leaves the wall by her head, and she shudders as he palms her breast, pinching her nipple through her dress. That big hand slides lower as he coaxes her legs further apart, drawing shapes on her inner thigh.

The first slow drag of his fingers across her damp panties has her legs shaking.

Her grip on his jacket tightens as he strokes her slowly, and she whimpers at the chill of his rings as they brush against her inner thighs. Sweet Pea’s mouth returns to her neck as he teases her, making her squirm with each rough touch.

A finger slips around the edge of her panties, and he groans as he touches her. “Fuck, you’re wet,” he murmurs in approval, his fingers tracing her slit. Jubilee’s hips jerk forward at the light touch, and she pants, a shivering mess as he plays with her.

“Do something,” she gasps as his lips press to her pounding pulse. “_Please_.”

Sweet Pea grins against the side of her throat. Anticipation makes her breath catch. His hand dips further between her thighs, and Jubilee moans against his ear as two of his long, thick fingers thrust into her tight, wet heat. He stretches her wonderfully, reaching a spot deep inside her that makes her breath catch. Her hips rock against him as his fingers curl against her slick walls, and his thumb circles her swollen clit achingly slow.

The knot in her lower stomach coils tighter with each rough thrust of his fingers. The soft gasps and moans he keeps coaxing from her are barely muffled by the music on the other side of the door, but it only makes her wetter knowing someone could hear them. His mouth returns to one of the hickeys on her neck, deepening the bruise, and she mewls as his thumb presses harder against her clit, rubbing her faster.

Her legs tremble, his hands the only thing holding her upright against the door. The grip he has on her is almost bruising, but she hardly cares with the way his digits are working her pussy, somehow knowing just how to touch her to have her on the edge in minutes.

His fingers leave her with a filthy, wet sound, and a whimper slips from her swollen lips. The heat between her thighs is bordering on painful, and she pulls at his hair roughly in response. He only hums against her neck. The vibration makes her shiver. Sweet Pea circles her clit with two slick fingers, and Jubilee’s hips roll forward against him, silently begging him to fuck her again.

Sweet Pea pulls away from the curve of her neck slowly, leaving faint marks littered across her skin. One of his hands leaves her thighs and slides up her torso. He tweaks her breast again, pinching her nipple and rolling it through the thin fabric of her dress before reaching behind her. His hot palm settles on her naked back, greedy fingers spread wide to cover as much of her bare skin as possible.

Jubilee’s stomach flips as his hard cock presses against her stomach through his jeans. He’s bigger than she thought he’d be, and her muscles clench around his fingers at the thought of him fucking her hard here in the bathroom until she’s a dripping mess.

What she wants must show on her face because his fingers flex against her back. She moans loudly as his fingers thrust back into her dripping pussy. Her head lolls back against the door, and the hand she has clenched in his jacket suddenly drops to the muscled arm shoved between her legs. There’s no slow start this time as he truly begins to fuck her with his hand.

Her grip tightens on his wrist, holding him to her desperately as her legs start to shake. The air grows thicker around them, hot enough to make her toes curl as she spreads her legs wider for him, needing him closer, deeper.

“Just like that, doll,” he murmurs as his thumb rolls over her clit. “Come for me.”

The demand makes her whine. Pleasure is wound tight inside her, leaving her so close to tipping over the edge. Her eyes flutter shut as her grip on his hair tightens. If he keeps fucking her like this she’ll—

Someone pounds on the door behind her, and Jubilee’s eyes snap open. Sweet Pea’s fingers stop moving inside of her, his thumb still tight on her clit. Her head falls back against the door as she clenches around the fingers still buried deep inside her. The ache in the pit of her stomach returns as her impending orgasm fades at the interruption.

There’s another bang on the door behind her. “Jubilee?” a familiar voice calls out from the other side. She groans, squeezing her eyes shut again as if that’ll make the sound go away. “Has he finished you off yet?” Midge asks. When Jubilee doesn’t answer, Midge giggles. “My bad, but we really gotta go. Lydia is wasted and upset because she can’t find you, and it’s your turn to call an Uber. Also I—”

“Okay, Midge!” Jubilee calls back, cutting her off. Irritation prickles at her skin. Sweet Pea’s fingers shift inside her, and her hips jerk as he rubs her clit. The stimulation has her shivering. “I’ll be out in a minute.” She hisses through her teeth as his fingers start pumping again. Little shocks of pleasure rush along her spine with each touch.

When she opens her eyes again, Sweet Pea is watching her, gaze hungry as he drinks in the sight of her flushed skin and panting, parted lips. Each caress of his fingers drags her back to the edge she was so close to tipping over, working her back up to it slowly.

“I have to—oh _fuck_.” She whimpers as he pinches her clit, rolling the sensitive bundle of nerves with his thumb. “I have to go,” she tells him, trying to keep her voice even. Her body aches to stay, to let him fuck her against the bathroom door, but she can’t. Reluctantly, she pries her hands away from him, releasing the grip she has on his wrist and in his hair.

His fingers slide from her with a slick sound that leaves her agonizingly empty. Jubilee’s thighs clench as his hand slips out of her underwear, her panties clinging to her like a second skin. Dark eyes sweep over her again, and the heated look he sends her makes her mouth go dry. She’s left cold and wanting as he steps away from her, and Jubilee sags back against the door, feeling boneless without his broad chest pressed to hers.

Sweet Pea’s rings flash in the low light of the bathroom as he raises his right hand to his lips. Her arousal is thick on his fingers, and her thighs clench as he slides them into his mouth, cleaning them. The wet popping sound as he pulls them from his mouth makes her inhale sharply.

“Sweet dreams tonight, doll,” he tells her, voice low and rough. It’s almost a command the way he says it, and it hits her right between the legs, warmth flooding through her. Her legs shake as she forces herself away from the door, and Sweet Pea’s eyes linger on her as he slips out into the main room of the club. The flickering lights give her a good look at the black ink on the side of his neck: a double-headed snake that she recognizes.

Jubilee’s heart pounds in her chest, the taste of cinnamon and citrus still on her lips.

* * *

The front door closes behind her with a click. Jubilee sighs as she leans back against the solid wood. The chill of it sinks into her bare skin, soothing the lingering heat of hands that aren’t there anymore. It’s been over an hour since she left the club with Midge and an incredibly drunk Lydia, but she can still feel the warmth of him: palms sliding down her spine, a warm and wet mouth on her neck, rough fingers and a building ache between her legs.

Jubilee’s thighs squeeze together as a lick of heat curls through her stomach.

The soft jingle of a bell and a trilling sound chase away the stray thoughts. Soft fur tickles her ankles as Beatrice winds around her legs, rubbing against her. “Hey, baby,” she murmurs without looking down. Beatrice makes another quiet noise at the lack of immediate attention and follows Jubilee across the room, the bell on her collar and the click of Jubilee’s heels on the floor the only sounds in the otherwise silent apartment.

Beatrice hops onto the countertop as Jubilee steps into the kitchen, and she absentmindedly reaches out, dragging her fingers down the length of the cat’s back. Purring, Beatrice leans into her touch. Jubilee runs her fingers through her messy hair, pushing the loose, wavy strands away from her face. She’s still sticky with sweat from dancing tonight and her mouth is dry from the gin earlier, but at least she isn’t trashed like Lydia.

Wrinkling her nose, Jubilee tickles Beatrice under the chin before scooping her up and hugging her to her chest. The fluffy, white cat immediately tucks herself against Jubilee’s neck and rubs against her jaw. Sharp, relaxed claws prickle at her chest as she carries the cat deeper into the apartment towards her bedroom, but she hardly feels it through her cloudy thoughts.

Leaving the door cracked open behind her, Jubilee kicks off her strappy heels and drops Beatrice down on the chair in her room. The cat makes a quiet sound as she lands on the cushion but quickly curls up when Jubilee stumbles toward her bathroom. She cleans her face, washing away dark lipstick and glittery eye-shadow. Her sticky skin longs for a shower, but it can wait until morning when she isn’t exhausted.

Glancing in the mirror, Jubilee purses her lips at the amount of hickeys littered across her neck, some darker than others. A shiver runs down her spine as she traces the marks Sweet Pea left behind. The feel of his mouth is still fresh in her mind, the rough scrape of his lips and the pressure of his teeth on her skin. A fresh wave of arousal swirls in her stomach, and she can almost feel him pressed against her again, hard and hot. For the second time tonight, she curses Midge for interrupting them. It’s like an itch that won’t leave. He had her wound so tight, but there was no release.

Her fingers brush against her inner thighs just beneath her dress, tracing the path of his hands. Her panties are still damp, and she inhales sharply as she presses against her clit through the flimsy fabric. Even that’s enough to make her sigh, and Jubilee retracts her hand reluctantly.

The bathroom is plunged into darkness as she flips the light-switch, and shadows dance across the walls. Her bedroom is just as dark as she closes the bathroom door behind her, only a sliver of moonlight coming in through the window. Beatrice is asleep where Jubilee left her, her tail swaying lazily over the edge of the chair. Carefully, Jubilee pulls the tie of her tight, silvery dress over her head. As she moves, she catches the low light, and the shimmering fabric pools on the floor by her feet. She steps out of it slowly, leaving it there as she moves toward her bed, footsteps silent.

The chilly apartment air tickles her bare chest as she crawls onto the mattress, and the way the soft comforter moves against her already sensitive skin makes her sigh. She rolls onto her back above the covers, dark hair fanning around her face. Slow, even breaths escape her as she relaxes, one arm curved over her head and the other resting lightly over her stomach.

Jubilee’s fingers trace soft shapes against her side as her eyes flutter shut, half-lidded in the dark. Her touch is light to start, looping circles drawn across her torso. The tips of her fingers trace the soft curve of her breasts, her nipples peaking under the cool kiss of the early autumn air. Her core throbs as she traces the hickeys scattered across her neck, her thoughts returning to the club earlier in the night.

Slowly, her fingers drift to her splayed thighs. With one leg bent at the knee and upright and the other falling sideways to rest on the mattress it’s easy for her hand to slip between her legs. Jubilee teases herself with light brushes against the inside of her thighs, each feather-light touch causing a faint wave of pleasure to wash over her.

She bites her lip as she tries to picture Sweet Pea above her: his tall frame looming over her, pinning her to the mattress, those rough hands coaxing her legs apart as he whispers absolutely filthy things in her ear. A soft and shaky sound escapes her as two of her fingers drag across her wet slit through her underwear. Jubilee’s back arches off the bed as she circles her clit, still sensitive from before.

Heat pools in her stomach with each drag of her fingers, and Jubilee’s hand fists in the blankets above her head. The muscles in her thighs tense, and her breath hitches as she imagines the rough scrape of lips against her neck, the phantom sensation making her toes curl.

Pressing her fingers harder against her core, Jubilee gasps, the sound loud in the darkened room. Her lips part and her hips roll upwards into her hand as she rubs her clit through her silky panties. The drag of wet lace on her skin makes her head tilt back with a breathy moan and she whimpers, needing more.

Jubilee’s fingers slip beneath the edge of her panties.

She spreads her lower lips slowly, almost embarrassingly wet as her digits trace her slit. Slickness coats her fingers as she continues to tease herself, trying to mimic the movement of his hands from earlier. Her fingernails dig into the blankets as she slowly circles her clit. The stimulation makes her whimper.

The growing need in her stomach winds into a tight knot as she continues to roll her hips against her hand, pressing harder on her clit. Arousal curls up her back like a hand tracing her spine, and she spreads her legs wider as she slips two fingers into her dripping pussy. Her back arches off the bed as she stretches herself, her fingers curling in search of that sweet spot inside of her. Gasps and sighs fill the room in a steady melody, each rising in pitch as she hurtles closer to the edge.

She pumps her fingers slowly, her hips rocking against her hand steadily. Her thumb rolls over her clit, and a shock of pleasure ripples through her in a wave. It’s just shy of what she wants, not enough to tip her over that edge she’s been riding.

She pictures his hands in place of her own. Long and thick fingers filling her, fucking her roughly as his palm grinds against her clit until she’s shaking. They’re bigger, better than her own slender and smooth digits, and the stretch of her walls makes her moan. He would pin her hips to the bed, holding her down as he thrust inside her, teasing her with shallow pumps of his fingers before going deeper, harder.

Her fingers move faster, and she pulls them from her slick heat to rub her clit in fast circles, her hips grinding up against her hand for more friction. It doesn’t take much to have her on the edge, the coil wound tight in her stomach. Each roll of her fingers stokes the heat burning beneath her skin. She’s slick with sweat that glistens faintly in the moonlight, and the room is almost suffocating.

A sudden pinch to her clit is what throws her over the edge.

With a squeal, Jubilee’s back bows off the bed, her entire body going taut. Her eyes squeeze shut as her walls spasm, clenching around nothing. The coil snaps, and her orgasm steals her breath. Her thighs shake, and her toes curl against the blanket beneath her. Jubilee’s fingers stutter against her sensitive and swollen clit, stilling as white-hot pleasure rips through her. The hand above her head fists in the comforter so tightly her knuckles turn white from the pressure.

Jubilee comes down slowly as a hazy warmth floods through her. She drops back against the mattress, loose and boneless as the last strings of pleasure fade away, leaving her exhausted. Once she catches her breath, she slips her hand from her soaked panties, whimpering faintly when her fingers brush against her clit.

Slowly, she manages to move again. Sticky with sweat but satisfied, her eyes are already slipping shut when Jubilee slips beneath the covers.

* * *

There are hands on her thighs.

Jubilee’s fingers curl in the sheets above her head, grasping desperately for something to anchor her in place, as if she might simply float away. The room is warm and dark, and the gentle brush of soft satin against her heated skin makes her shiver. The fingers drawing slow, nonsensical shapes on the outside of her thighs flatten into palms that gently coax her legs to open. Sighing, she melts into the touch.

Lips brush against the inside of her thigh, the ghost of a kiss, and her eyes flutter shut. Loose hair tickles her chest with each breath she takes, and she shivers as another heated kiss is pressed to her soft skin. Hands hold her open as someone mouths at her thigh, nipping her skin. A low, baritone laugh rumbles through the room as she jolts, and the vibrations feed the slow heat building inside her. Rough lips latch onto her thigh, sucking gently as a bruise is worked into her skin.

The sensation has her gasping, and her back arches, her hips trying to rock again the mouth pressed hot against her. His hands hold her down easily, and he continues to press butterfly kisses across the inside of her leg, each one landing higher as the soft fabric is pushed up her legs, revealing more of her creamy skin to greedy hands and lips.

One of her hands unclenches from the sheets to grasp a muscled shoulder as that mouth moves to the lacy edge of her panties, skipping over her core. Jubilee whimpers as a wet tongue drags across her skin. Her hand drifts into his hair as he kisses across her stomach, and the strap of her satin lingerie falls down her shoulder. She arches up into his chest as his lips follow the line of her underwear to her hip.

Teeth nip at her skin again, and the sound that leaves her is almost a moan. “Please,” she murmurs, needing more, but she’s ignored.

He smiles against her and moves back to the center of her torso, lingering low on her stomach. Jubilee’s half-lidded eyes glance down into the darkness and golden eyes lock with hers, watching her reactions. They pin her in place, stealing her breath and sending a hazy rush of arousal through her body. His tongue flicks out against her smooth skin, tasting her, and Jubilee’s head lolls back against her pillow.

She feels like she’s floating as he crawls up her torso, kissing every inch of her skin available to his mouth. Teeth scrape her stomach and leave faint marks quickly soothed by his tongue. The babydoll she’s wearing parts beneath his fingers as he pushes aside the fabric. Gently, Jubilee tugs at the silky strands of hair curled around her fingers, and the shadow moving above her groans lowly in response.

That talented mouth stops at her sternum, and the hands on her thighs disappear, leaving her aching and cold. One presses into the sheets beside her, and the other slides up her side slowly, drinking in the feel of her beneath him. That big hand stops beneath her breast. Long fingers curl around her ribcage, slotting against her neatly. A warm breath fans across her heaving chest.

Bergamot and cinnamon flood her senses, a thick, heady scent that consumes her. Citrus and warm spice makes her toes curl.

Butterfly kisses are placed between her breasts and follow the outline of the flimsy fabric covering her. His thumb slips beneath the satin to brush her peaked nipple and she gasps at the pleasure that settles in her stomach. Jubilee presses her chest into his palm as he continues to tease her, pinching her nipple before rolling it between his rough fingers. Humming, he palms her, his lips latch onto her other breast, breath hot against her.

Again, he works a faint hickey onto her skin. A deep, rosy flush rises to the surface of her chest before he leaves her with a faint wet noise. Each roll of his thumb over her nipple draws soft gasps and sighs from her, the only sounds in the darkness.

Lips meet the base of her neck. He finds her racing pulse, the gentle thrum of her heartbeat a steady rhythm. Hot, wet kisses trail from her collarbone to the underside of her jaw. Each one makes her stomach flip pleasantly, and she whimpers as he nips a sensitive spot beneath her ear.

Her hips roll up against his and his cock presses against her thigh, big and hard. He practically growls against her neck as she rubs herself against him. A sharp grind of his hips against hers leaves her moaning. He pinches her nipple once more before pulling his fingers from the cup of her silky lingerie. The complaint that settles on her tongue disappears when both of his large hands settle on her ribcage. His thumbs stroke her skin as long fingers curl around her back, wrapping around her gently. Each caress of his fingers draw little coos and whimpers from her, and he drinks it in like sweet music.

She’s shaking by the time he releases her.

The weight of him leaves her as he holds himself above her, hands pressed into the mattress on either side of her head, the overwhelming heat of his body pinning her in place. She melts into him, the heat making her feel hazy. Lazily, calloused fingers drag along the outside of her thigh, pinpricks of fire left in his wake as she shudders beneath him. It’s hot and filthy, the way his lips scrape against the sensitive skin of her neck, drawing whimpering gasps from her.

His mouth leaves her with a wet sound, and the ache between her legs grows painful. “Sweet dreams, doll,” he murmurs against her ear.

Jubilee wakes with a shuddering gasp. Her eyes snap open as pleasure ripples through her body in a merciless torrent that has her writhing and arching off the mattress. When she falls back, she’s boneless with a lingering heat pulsing between her slick and trembling thighs. The sheets are damp, knotted around her legs and shoved to the end of the bed in a crumpled heap.

The early morning light spills in through the curtains and casts a pale glow throughout the room. She stares at the ceiling, her heart pounding in her chest. It takes her several minutes for her limbs to stop tingling, and when they do Jubilee sits up slowly and slides to the head of her bed. On the chair in the corner, Beatrice is still asleep, undisturbed by Jubilee’s vivid dream.

Her hand is shaking as she runs her fingers through her hair. Squeezing her eyes shut, all Jubilee can see are fiery, golden eyes and the dark shadow of ink across tanned skin: a double-headed snake insignia. More sober than she was last night, Jubilee realizes exactly who it was she hooked up with last night.

With a groan, she swings her legs over the edge of the mattress, planting her feet on the cold floor. She tries to ignore the stickiness of her thighs. All she wanted was a simple fuck last night. Easy. Just hands in the dark and a quick release. The last thing she needed was to get involved with a fucking Southside Serpent.

Jubilee stands on unsteady legs and wrinkles her nose at the combination of sweat and other fluids on her skin. Her thigh throbs in response. Frowning, she glances down.

There’s a bite mark on the inside of her leg. An angry, purple and red hickey that stands out against her creamy skin. Indents from teeth circle the mark, and Jubilee sucks in a sharp breath at the sight of it. She’s seen venomous snakes with kinder bites, but it doesn’t hurt any worse than a simple bruise. 

Dazed, she tries to piece last night together, but Sweet Pea’s mouth was never anywhere but her neck and chest. They didn’t get any further than that.

But her dream last night…

A chill runs down her spine like an icy finger; goosebumps prickle at her skin. With a pit forming in her stomach, Jubilee shakes her head and hurries into her bathroom, trying to forget the phantom sensation of lips on her thighs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to southsidewrites for betaing this chapter! And another thanks to everyone that left a kudos or comment on the last chapter! I really appreciate feedback on this, as it's probably going to be my longest project to date for the Riverdale fandom!

The bruise on her thigh throbs as Jubilee curls up in the corner of the booth. She tucks her legs beneath her and tries to ignore the tender spot hidden beneath her jeans and oversized sweater. The rough fabric sliding across her skin makes her itch, and absentmindedly, her fingers brush across the angry mark. Her toes curl in her boots as her thoughts drift to her dream last night; the details are still crystal clear, though they shouldn’t be.

She’s never remembered a dream as vividly as his mouth moving across her thighs and stomach, and it makes her shiver the more she thinks about it. The way the soft, satin fabric brushed against her skin felt more like a memory than a dream. 

And then there’s the bruise. It isn’t like anything she’s ever seen before: dark and red and lined with marks that look like the indentation of sharp teeth. As much as she wanted to ignore it this morning, Jubilee couldn’t take her eyes off of it.

“Are you okay?” 

Jubilee’s gaze snaps away from her leg and locks with Lydia’s concerned, green eyes across the booth. Pursing her lips, Lydia looks her over slowly, taking in Jubilee’s almost frazzled appearance.

“You’ve been kind of distracted,” Lydia elaborates when Jubilee only responds with a frown.

Jubilee’s fingers curl around the sleeve of her sweater and she picks at a loose thread absentmindedly, her gaze already starting to slide away, this time towards the large window overlooking the street. “I’m fine, Lyds,” she promises, trying for a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Just tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

The phantom sensation of fingertips sliding against her thighs makes her shiver.

Lydia snorts. “You never get much sleep.” She crosses her arms as she leans back, studying Jubilee from across the booth again. Her gaze softens when Jubilee doesn’t so much as roll her eyes. “Seriously, Jubilee, is something wrong?” 

It’s a fair question. Jubilee’s been quiet ever since they arrived at the little diner, the two of them waiting for Midge, who’s running late as usual.

“It’s nothing,” Jubilee says, waving off the question. The bruise on her thigh throbs again, and the smaller hickeys dotting her chest and throat seem to thrum with heat in response, only half-hidden beneath her long hair. “Just… something kind of weird happened this morning. It’s not a big deal.”

“Clearly.” Sarcasm is thick in her voice as Lydia peers at Jubilee over the rim of her coffee mug. Her eyes narrow as she takes a sip of her pale beige drink. “Weird how?”

Jubilee reaches for her own drink, cupping it between her hands and sighing when the heat sinks into her chilled fingers. “You’re going to think I’m crazy,” she murmurs, only partly joking. Maybe what she needs is Lydia’s practicality right now.

“I’m not going to think you’re crazy.” Lydia sets her mug down and looks at Jubilee earnestly. Jubilee looks back at her skeptically. “Okay, maybe I will, but I love you, so I won’t say it out loud.”

“Thanks.” Jubilee snorts as her fingers drum against the side of her mug. Biting her lip, she avoids Lydia’s gaze, unsure how to begin. The more she thinks about it, the crazier it sounds. “I found a hickey on my leg this morning,” she finally says, deciding to be blunt. “It wasn’t there when I went to sleep and last night I had this… dream about that guy I met at the club.”

Lydia’s brows furrow in confusion. “You had a dream about the guy you hooked up with at the club?” she repeats slowly. She leans back in the booth and takes another sip of her coffee, her green eyes narrowed. “What kind of dream?” Behind her mug, Lydia’s lips twitch.

_ A good one _, Jubilee almost says, the words on the tip of her tongue. “What kind of a dream do you think?” She sighs. Her fingers rake through her hair, pushing the long, wavy strands away from her face. More of the hickeys on her neck are revealed with the motion, and Lydia looks like she wants to laugh.

“You had a sex dream about tall, dark, and sexy-but-kind-of-scary?”

“That’s the part you’re choosing to focus on here?” Jubilee asks. Setting her mug down and leaning back against the bench, Jubilee crosses her arms and purses her lips. “Not the fact that a bruise showed up on my leg this morning?”

Across the table, Lydia rolls her eyes. “I don’t know if you looked in a mirror this morning, Jubilee, but you are _ covered _ in hickeys right now.” She looks pointedly at Jubilee’s neck where a series of red marks are scattered across her skin. “And from what Midge said, you two were basically screwing against the bathroom door. Maybe you just didn’t notice it last night. It happens.”

Jubilee shakes her head. “His mouth was never on my leg. We didn’t exactly get that far before Midge interrupted us.” Lydia still doesn’t look convinced. “I swear to God, I’m not making this up. I don’t think I could just forget some hot guy going down on me.”

“Okay, so you have a bruise on your leg, big deal! I get random bruises all the time,” Lydia reminds her. “You probably just ran into the edge of your bed or something and didn’t notice.”

“Yeah, but I’m not a clumsy bitch like you,” Jubilee argues. 

Pressing her hand to her chest, Lydia sends her a faux wounded look, but doesn’t correct her. 

“Besides,” Jubilee continues, rubbing the bruise again, “it looked like a bite mark.”

Lydia looks at her like she wants to laugh. “Did the sexy stranger bite you in your dream?”

Ignoring Lydia’s sarcasm, Jubilee nods. “He did actually, yes,” she says. A shiver tingles along her spine, like a finger dragging down her back, and Jubilee tries not to think about that mouth on her. She crosses one leg delicately over the other and reaches for her half-empty mug.

Snorting, Lydia grabs her own drink. “Of course he did.” She looks Jubilee over once, her brows furrowing slightly. “Okay, yeah, I think you’re crazy.”

Jubilee rolls her eyes, but before she can say anything, Midge slips into the booth beside Lydia, shoving the shorter girl towards the window. “Why are we calling Jubilee crazy?” she asks, glancing between them. Midge makes herself comfortable on the bench, looking far more awake and lively than either Jubilee or Lydia. Though, that might have something to do with the large coffee she’s already started chugging. “Also, did you guys order my usual?”

Lydia ignores Jubilee’s warning look and turns to Midge. “Jubilee thinks she has a hickey on her leg that magically manifested because of a wet dream she had about her hook up from last night.” Amusement is thick in her voice, and even Jubilee can admit that it sounds ridiculous when she says it like that.

“Ooh, the leather-clad hottie?” Midge asks as a sly grin curls on her lips. She looks across the table at Jubilee. “Hell yeah, get that dream dick, girl, he was a spice.”

“Thanks, Midge,” Jubilee drawls, resting her elbow on the table and propping her head up with her hand. “And yeah, we ordered your pancakes.”

Apparently satisfied with the state of her food, Midge relaxes back into the booth. She stares at Jubilee for a moment longer before sliding her phone from her pocket and opening her Tinder app. “If that hickey is anything like the ones on your neck, you might want to wear pants for the next few days,” she says casually as she scrolls.

Jubilee almost chokes on her coffee.

Dumbfounded, Lydia turns to Midge, who only blinks back at her. “I’m sorry, you _ believe _ her?”

“You don’t?”

“You can’t just magically get a hickey from a dream,” Lydia argues, absolutely bewildered by Midge’s easy acceptance of Jubilee’s phantom hickey. “That’s not how hickeys work!” The skeptic in Lydia rears its head, and Jubilee groans, already knowing how this is going to go.

Midge shrugs, waving off Lydia’s practicality as she wrinkles her nose and swipes left on some guy. “Maybe Jubilee banged a ghost,” she reasons.

“Midge!” Lydia hisses, shushing her.

Jubilee squeezes her eyes shut. “Oh my god,” she murmurs. “I did not bang a ghost, Midge.” She’s pretty sure a ghost couldn’t cause her to orgasm like that, but opts not to share that bit of information with her friends. Lydia already looks like she’s about to have a stroke, and Jubilee really doesn’t need Midge having that kind of information.

Midge, however, doesn’t seem concerned in the slightest by what she’s said. “What?” She crosses her arms and purses her lips. “Lots of people get scratches from ghosts! Don’t you watch _ Ghost Adventures _?”

Lydia looks like she’s in physical pain. “But a hickey?”

“Maybe it was a kinky ghost.”

“You two are the worst,” Jubilee tells them, immediately plastering on a smile as their waitress heads over with their food. Midge sends her a cheeky grin from across the table, and Jubilee wonders if it’s too early to start drinking again.

* * *

Soft, golden light spills in through the windows lining the wall, the curtains pulled aside to allow the last rays of the afternoon sun inside. Sweet music plays over the speaker resting on the coffee table, the only sound in the otherwise quiet apartment. Jubilee shivers as early autumn air sweeps into the room, a cold kiss against her skin that lingers for too long, and she buries her toes against the cushions of the couch. Her legs stretch out beneath the blanket she tossed over herself earlier, and by her feet, Beatrice makes a soft noise and curls into a tight, fluffy ball, fast asleep.

Adjusting her grip on the book on her lap, she pulls her sleeves down further over her fingers, trying to chase away the chill that won’t seem to leave. Her apartment has been freezing all morning, every trace of warmth from last night vanished, and she’s resigned herself to curling up on the couch and accepting the finicky weather.

Jubilee snorts as she bumps her foot against Beatrice again, trying to leech some of the cat’s heat. In return, Beatrice purrs and presses herself back against Jubilee, content despite the cold.

On the coffee table, her phone chimes with a text. A notification with Midge’s name flashes on the screen before it goes dark, and Jubilee rolls her eyes. It hasn’t been long since they all left the diner after brunch. Midge skipped out early after her Tinder match happened to be in the area, and Lydia was planning to spend a long day doing nothing with her boyfriend Reggie. Jubilee opted to return home afterwards, too tired from the previous night to do anything else.

Lazily, she glances at the violin case situated in the corner. Usually, she would spend an hour or two practicing on her own, but she’s more exhausted than usual today, something she’s chalked up to the lack of sleep and faint hangover.

With a sigh, Jubilee shifts on the couch, reaching for her phone as the text notification pops up again.

‘Have fun with your kinky ghost friend ;)’

Jubilee rolls her eyes at Midge’s text and drops her phone back onto the table without bothering to respond. Her dignity hadn’t been spared in the slightest when she was out with the girls earlier. Lydia still didn’t believe her by the end of brunch, and Midge took to ghost jokes almost immediately after they all got their food. While Midge may be the believer out of the three of them, she never misses a chance to take the piss out of someone.

Maybe that’s exactly what she needed though. Lydia’s immediate skepticism and Midge’s jokes loosened the pit in her stomach, if nothing else. Lydia was probably right: it’s just a random bruise, and she’s losing her mind over nothing.

“What do you think, B?” Jubilee murmurs to the cat sleeping by her feet. “Am I just crazy?” Beatrice cracks open a big, blue eye for a second before covering her face with her paw, ignoring Jubilee. “That’s what I thought,” she murmurs. A slow puff of air escapes Jubilee’s mouth as she slides further down the couch to lie down.

The bruise throbs gently in response, and heat prickles across her skin.

Absentmindedly, Jubilee’s hand slips beneath the blanket covering her lap. She finds the bruise easily, and it seems to ache beneath her touch, fire left in the wake of her fingers as she circles it. Tantalizing circles wind around the mark, the impressions of phantom teeth smooth against her skin. 

Her eyes slip further shut with each lazy drag. Jubilee sinks into the couch, relaxing for the first time since she awoke earlier. Nonsensical shapes make a winding path across her inner thigh, patterns and stray letters that creep across her skin like a slow moving vine. Her fingers patter against her leg. Gently, the blanket over her legs is tugged downwards until it pools near her feet. A shiver crawls down her spine. The tips of her hair tickle at her neck and Jubilee releases a slow, shaky breath. Heat floods her stomach and the music playing over her phone sounds sweeter somehow, low and steady and rhythmic.

The warm, sharp scent of cinnamon and citrus floods the room.

A much larger hand joins hers, and her breath hitches. It settles just above her knee, a comforting weight that holds her steady. Calloused fingers brush against hers as a second hand grips her other thigh; achingly familiar palms slide up her legs slowly, coaxing them to fall apart. The sweet heat of a phantom breath fans across her skin. She shivers as lips press against the bite mark on her thigh. Raw desire curls through her veins like a slow acting poison, and her hands find broad shoulders, a steady weight above her.

Warm fingertips slip beneath the hem of her sweater, edging the soft fabric up her stomach to reveal an inch of skin. Jubilee sighs as she arches into the touch, and big hands trail up her sides to hold her by the waist, keeping her pressed against the couch. A content sound slips from her as an overwhelming heat settles around her, chasing away the cold October air.

That talented mouth follows the hands creeping higher on her torso. A trail of lazy kisses are left across her thighs and stomach, and a mischievous tongue laps at the jewelry dangling from her navel, tasting her. The combination of cold silver and a wet mouth makes her squirm, but the chill that greets her is smothered by the heavy weight on top of her. A broad frame presses her into the couch, and Jubilee’s eyes flutter shut.

Hips grind down against hers in a slow, teasing rhythm, the friction absolutely intoxicating. She rises to meet it, needing more, but a firm grip keeps her pinned down and open. It leaves her vulnerable to appraising eyes and a wicked tongue. Spice tickles at her senses. A knot coils tight in her stomach.

Her fingers weave through thick hair, and a sound caught between a moan and growl rumbles above her, low and throaty, a warning. Her breath catches as it jolts through her like electricity. The rough scrape of lips on her neck softens into something sweeter. Her pulse thrums. The sinful grin against her throat is the only warning she gets before teeth sink into the curve of her shoulder.

Jubilee jerks away from the scalding heat that rips through the side of her neck like a shot of fire. Her stomach flips like the world has dropped out from beneath her, and she sucks in a sharp breath between her teeth as she lurches forward off the couch. The haze surrounding her falls away like smoke.

At the other end of the couch, Beatrice makes a quiet noise and lifts her head. The cat peers at Jubilee with one blue eye, startled by the sudden movement in the otherwise still room.

Citrus and spice linger in the air.

With a sigh, Jubilee runs her shaking fingers through her hair and shoves the messy strands away from her face. A shiver shoots down her spine, her heart pounding in her chest. The stifling heat that was blanketing her disappears, leaving her cold once more. Her thighs are sticky with sweat, and her damp underwear clings to her skin.

The last wisps of a dream tickle at her senses just like when she woke this morning, and her fingers fly to the right side of her neck. A sharp sting ripples from the place she touches. An echo of pain comes from the hickey on her thigh. Her throat tightens. She tries not to shudder as she disentangles her legs from the blanket knotted around her ankles.

Something sick curls through her stomach as she rolls off the couch and stumbles towards her bedroom. Jubilee braces herself against the wall outside of her bathroom, thoughts a whirlwind.

It was just a dream. Midge and Lydia must have psyched her out earlier. That’s all it is. She’s horny and a little desperate after last night, and this is just her body’s way of saying she needs to get laid. Arousal buzzes through her at the lingering feeling of hands trailing up and down her sides, lips on her neck.

The familiarity of the touch is unnerving; she knows exactly who those hands belong to, but there’s no way it’s possible. Even so, the thought leaves a little thrill inside of her. A primal combination of lust and fear form a coil low in her gut. Those golden eyes from last night come to mind, and she can practically feel them crawling down her body with an insatiable hunger.

Jubilee shoves the thought aside and opens the bathroom door. She gropes blindly for the switch in the darkness and snaps it on. Light floods the small room, and Jubilee grips the counter.

There’s a bruise settled on the curve of her neck, pale purple and lined with the faintest marks from teeth.

Her fingers trace the fresh hickey, feeling each indentation of teeth. This time she knows she’s not crazy, but it just brings her more questions that only one person can answer.

And she knows exactly where to find him.

* * *

The musty smell of cheap cigarettes and whiskey greet Jubilee as she slips into the Whyte Wyrm, so thick she can practically taste it on the back of her tongue. A thick cloud of smoke clings to the air, and she purses her lips as she scans the crowded room. There are dozens of people spread throughout the place, most of them Serpents gathered around the pool tables and drinking at the bar. It’s still early in the night, but the music is loud and pounds through her veins.

Jubilee blends in easily as she disappears into the crowd, having exchanged her sweater for a tight shirt and leather jacket before leaving her apartment. Even so, she can’t be too careful. It’s been a while since she was last at the Wyrm, but some of the older Serpents will still know her as FP Jones’ daughter.

The click of her heels is muffled by the loud rock music and the loud shouts coming from bikers as she makes her way across the bar, keeping to herself and sticking close to the walls as her gaze sweeps the room.

He’s not hard to find.

Tall and broad in a way that’s not easy to forget, Sweet Pea is half bent over a pool table near the back wall, focused on the match he’s playing with another young Serpent she doesn’t recognize. A wicked smile pulls at his lips as he takes a shot, and the faint bruises scattered across her body seem to throb in response. For a second, she simply stares at him from across the room, watching the way his muscles move beneath the leather jacket stretched across his shoulders, a snake about to strike coiled on his back. He looks just as good as last night, and the lick of desire that curls through her at the sight of him leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.

She shouldn’t be here. Jubilee knew this was a bad idea as soon as she stormed out of her apartment, but she wants answers. As much as she wants to believe it was only dreams, the bruises on her neck and thigh are real, and she can still feel his touch burning her skin, like a memory or a ghost. It’s a bad idea, coming here to this bar in search of a man that’s clearly done something strange to her, but she always did like to play with fire.

Before she knows it, she’s crossing the room.

Sweet Pea doesn’t notice her approaching, his back to her as he lines up another shot, but his opponent does. From across the table, a shorter man with a goofy grin catches sight of her. Another Serpent. He raises a brow when he sees her, bemusement flickering in his eyes. Jubilee doesn’t spare him a look, eyes on the imposing figure she’s dreamed of twice now.

She stops a few feet away from them and crosses her arms, waiting for him to finish and taking a second to watch him move. What she’s looking for, she isn’t sure, something strange or terrible, anything to answer the questions burning inside her.

“Sweet Pea,” the other man says, gesturing towards her with his chin. He rests his pool cue on the floor and leans against it, chestnut eyes on her.

Sweet Pea glances over his shoulder, his brows furrowed. The irritation in his expression disappears when he sees her standing there. He straightens to his full height and looks her up and down the same way he did last night, and Jubilee fights the urge to shiver under his heated gaze. “Hey, doll,” he says, wetting his lips.

“You didn’t mention you were a Serpent,” she says, ignoring the thrill that comes with having his attention on her. Her gaze flicks from his umber eyes to the dark ink on the side of his neck, and she hates herself for wanting to lick that tattoo and hear him moan.

His lips curl like he knows what she’s thinking, and it wouldn’t surprise her if he did. “You didn’t ask,” he replies, turning to face her fully. Across the table, the other Serpent is still watching her curiously, but when Sweet Pea waves him off, he turns back to the balls still scattered across the table. “What are you doin’ here?”

Sweet Pea’s arms fold across his chest and he leans back against the pool table as his friend moves into position to take a shot, keeping an eye on them. There’s that look in his eyes again like he can’t quite figure her out, and she tries not to feel pleased about it.

Jubilee purses her lips. In her hurry to get here, she never stopped to consider how this conversation would go. There’s no easy way to accuse someone of sending her unsolicited wet dreams. She’d think she was crazy if not for the physical proof. “We need to talk,” is what she settles on. “_Now _.”

The sharpness of her tone catches his attention. He stares at her for a second too long before glancing at his friend. The men share a look before Sweet Pea turns back to her and sighs. Belatedly, she realizes he’s looking at the fresh bite mark on the side of her throat. “All right,” he agrees. “Talk.”

“What happened last night?” she asks, taking a step closer to him and keeping her voice low enough so his friend can’t hear.

He snorts. “You dragged me into the bathroom at a club for a quick fuck,” he reminds her bluntly. Heat curls in her stomach at the throaty chuckle that escapes him. Sweet Pea leans down towards her, devilish charm in his smile. “But we didn’t quite get that far, did we, doll?”

“You know what I mean,” she practically hisses at him, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “What the fuck did you do to me?” From across the table, his friend flinches and misses his shot at the accusation, but Sweet Pea just looks down at her, expression revealing nothing. “Some kind of bullshit voodoo?”

He snorts and shakes his head, laughing under his breath. “You believe in that shit?” Sweet Pea shoves away from the pool table, a flicker of amusement in his impossibly dark eyes.

“I don’t know what the hell I believe,” Jubilee says as he turns around and surveys the table with that same focused look in his eyes from when he had her pinned against the bathroom door last night—methodical, like he knows exactly what to do. If it were yesterday, she would have said all of this is crazy. “I know you did something.”

With a sigh, Sweet Pea leans over the pool table and lines up his shot. He pockets the ball easily, a single fluid motion and no hesitation, and she knows he’s about to sweep the table.

His arms flex beneath his leather jacket, and the angle causes the fabric to ride up, revealing a tantalizing flash of skin above his hip. As if hypnotized, her amber eyes stay locked on that sliver of smooth, tanned skin until he pockets the last solid. 

“Those dreams were all you, doll,” he says breezily. “I didn’t do a damn thing.”

For a moment it’s like the entire room goes still. The booming music and shouts from around the bar are lost on her as a cold spike of dread rips through her chest, like an icy hand squeezing her heart. Sweet Pea doesn’t seem to realize what he’s said, carrying on his game like nothing happened, and for a second Jubilee wonders if she really is imagining all of it.

She wets her lips as she turns, leaning with her back against the edge of the table. A breathless little laugh slips from her, and she shakes her head as Sweet Pea draws his arm back. His shoulder brushes against hers. Jubilee waits until he’s just about to take his shot before softly saying, “I didn’t mention a dream.”

Sweet Pea hits the cue ball a little too hard, and the eight ball rattles across the table before slipping into the pocket and winning the game. The tension that hangs in the air following the admission is thick and daunting, and it crackles through the air like electricity.

He straightens slowly, the muscles in his back tight as he rests the pool cue on the empty table. Jaw clenched tightly, Sweet Pea doesn’t take his eyes off the table as he calls out to his friend. “Fangs,” he says darkly, “go check on Isaac and Dexy for me.”

The other man, Fangs, glances between the two of them, his brows furrowed. “Everything okay?” he asks Sweet Pea, though he’s looking at her.

Sweet Pea nods sharply, his jaw clenched. “Fine.” Heat flares inside of her when his gaze shifts to her. 

Fangs lingers for a second before setting his cue on the table and taking a step back. Eventually, he turns away and disappears into the throng of people, heading straight for the bar. A small part of her thinks she should be nervous at being left alone with Sweet Pea, but she’s not.

“Like I said, that was all you,” he repeats, and there’s an odd glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes as he angles himself to look at her. “I just gave you a little… push at the end.” The mention of her orgasm this morning makes her scoff, though she can still feel the rush of it inside her, her stomach flipping. “Figured I owed you that much.”

Jubilee stares up at him critically, despite the nerves bubbling inside her. “Right,” she starts slowly, sarcasm thick on her tongue. “Because it’s not absolutely crazy to give someone a magical wet dream.”

Despite that, she can’t help but wonder if it was as real for him as it was for her, if he could feel every desperate touch of her hands on him, and some dark part of her hopes he can still feel that heat clawing at his insides just like she can.

Sweet Pea makes a low sound in the back of his throat. There’s a dark look in his eyes as they rake down her frame, a hunger there that makes her mouth dry. “You know what I wanna know,” he murmurs, more husky than before. “What had you dreaming about me?” The question hits her in the chest, and he smirks as she sucks in a sharp breath. “Did you crawl into bed that wound up,” he continues, “or did you take care of yourself first?” 

Her expression must give her away, because there’s an almost feral gleam in his eyes. 

“Was it good?”

“I—”

Before she can continue, Sweet Pea is in front of her, hands pressed against the pool table on either side of her hips, boxing her in. A low, dangerous chuckle slips past his lips as he leans into her, forcing her back to curve against the lip of the table. He’s taller than she remembers from the other night, looming over her in a way that makes her breath catch, but not in fear. The heat of his chest against hers goes right between her legs, and he must know it too. The bastard.

Immediately, her hand presses against his chest, her palm flat, unsure if she wants to shove him away or pull him closer. She’s torn between the gut reactions of “fuck you” and “fuck me.” His confession just leaves her with more questions, but her tongue is thick and heavy in her dry mouth. She doesn’t even know where to start; he doesn’t give her a chance to.

“How’s it feel?” he asks her, lips brushing against the shell of her ear teasingly. “Knowing I can make you cum that hard without even touching you?” Jubilee’s breath hitches as the tips of his fingers skim the outside of her thigh over her jeans.

“You’re a cocky bastard, aren’t you?” she says, letting his mouth skim her cheek, his breath hot against her ear. Hesitantly, her fingers curl against Sweet Pea’s chest, pulling him a little closer. It’s hard to think with him so close, and that only feeds the growing need inside her. His lips curve into a wicked smirk, and for a fleeting moment, she wonders if he could make her cum even harder than before.

Sweet Pea leans back just enough to look at her. “You into that?”

She’s not, but with the way he’s looking at her right now, those dark eyes roaming her figure with a hunger that makes heat pool low in her stomach, she has half a mind to let him bend her over the pool table and fuck her right here.

Boldly, Jubilee leans away from Sweet Pea and peers up at him from beneath her dark eyelashes. She licks her lips, wondering if she’s about to make a mistake. “Outside,” she demands, low for only him to hear. “_ Now _.” That hand pulling him closer is suddenly a flat palm shoving him away, and he takes a step back, his eyes widening.

There’s no hesitation on Jubilee’s part when she grabs his much larger hand in hers, intent on dragging him out of the bar behind her if she has to. But there’s no need. Sweet Pea seems as keen on getting out of here as she is. He leads her to the back of the bar, to a door she knows leads to the ally outside. No one pays them any mind as they slip out of the crowded room.

Like last night, he backs her up against the closest surface as soon as they’re alone. The cold, brick wall outside of the Wyrm stings her back despite her clothes, and Jubilee cringes away from the rough stone, pressing herself closer to his chest. She molds to him perfectly, the space between them nonexistent. It’s all messy hands and tongues and teeth as her fingers weave through his hair, yanking him down to her as she surges up to meet him in a fiery kiss.

Something akin to a growl rumbles against her lips as she fists at his hair, pulling harshly, and Sweet Pea’s hand slaps against the wall beside her head, bracing him above her. His free hand latches onto her hip, his fingers already slipping beneath the hem of her shirt to touch her skin.

_ He’s too tall _, she thinks, a little dizzy as he tilts her head back for a better angle. Or maybe she’s too short. Either way, she balances herself precariously on her toes, pressing her lips harder against his. His hand leaves a trail of fire across her skin, and he swallows the appreciative moan that tumbles from her mouth.

Sweet Pea’s tongue slides across her bottom lip, tasting her, and she traps his lip between her teeth as she leans away. His lips are kiss-swollen and smeared with her lipstick, his pupils blown wide with arousal, and this time she knows it isn’t a trick of the light when his eyes flash gold for just a second.

She rips her hand from his hair and grabs the lapels of his jacket instead, the leather rough against her fingers. His mouth hovers an inch from hers, teasing and not nearly close enough. Frantic fingers shove at the leather, forcing the jacket to fall open wider. “Off,” she says before dragging him back down for another rough kiss.

He smiles against her. “Whatever you want.”

There’s no reluctance or hesitation as Sweet Pea’s hands leave her, and she shivers at the cold air that takes his place. The leather jacket slides down his arms slowly, and Jubilee makes a low sound in her throat as she helps him to shove the stifling fabric aside. It drops to the ground by his feet. And then his hands on her again, shoving the jacket from her own shoulders until her arms are bare. The chilly night doesn’t reach her as he crushes his chest to hers again, and Jubilee’s hands slide up his biceps appreciatively.

She’s been so on edge since last night, it’s no surprise just how little time it takes for him to have her gasping and panting. And he doesn’t seem interested in drawing anything out. Nipping and licking at her lips, Sweet Pea shoves his thigh between hers and grinds upwards.

It drags a moan from her. Her legs shake at the pressure against her clit. A tentative roll of her hips makes them both shiver as she slides against him. Heat pools in her stomach as he rubs her though her jeans. The simple motion makes a familiar knot coil tight in her stomach, and she’s still achingly sensitive from earlier.

The weight of him above her and the way his muscles move beneath his tight black t-shirt are better than the wisps she remembers from her dreams, and the hands roaming her sides seem to know exactly where to touch her.

The ally is quiet aside from their heavy breathing, the music inside muffled and the night silent. It makes everything seem louder, and his panting against her ear is almost hypnotic. Sweet Pea tastes like something fruity and sweet, and it bursts across her tongue as she sucks on his bottom lip.

She should be more worried about being caught, about someone catching them like this while she’s a panting, moaning mess, but the last thing she wants is for him to stop.

The heat of him sinks into her, and she gasps against him as he gropes her ass, grinding her hips against him and pressing the growing bulge in his jeans against her stomach.

It shouldn’t be so arousing to be backed up against a wall in an ally outside a biker bar on the wrong side of the city, but it is, and she’s already halfway to the same edge he left her at last night.

His hands on her thighs are the only warning she gets before he grabs her, lifting her clear off the ground. The surprised sound that escapes her is smothered by another harsh kiss, and Jubilee moans against him as her back hits the wall, the bricks scraping her skin through her thin top. It’s raw instinct that draws her legs to wrap around his hips, her ankles locking against the small of his back. It only forces them closer together, and pleasure licks up her spine as he rolls against her. Desperation claws at her, and she nearly whimpers into his mouth.

Sweet Pea holds her up easily, like she weighs nothing at all, and it hits her again that he’s not normal, that there’s something off about him, but she doesn’t know what. But right now, she really doesn’t care so long as his hips keep rubbing against her like that.

The plum fabric of her tank-top is shoved up her torso, revealing inches of creamy skin to his greedy hands, and any stray thought is ripped from her and replaced with pure pleasure. He gropes and pinches and drags his blunt fingernails across her skin, his lips leaving hers with a filthy wet sound so he can mouth at her jaw.

“Fuck,” she murmurs as soon as her lips are free, her eyes fluttering shut as he palms her breast over her bra, squeezing gently. His thumb traces the flimsy edge of the fabric, and her head falls back against the wall as she arches her back, pressing more of her sensitive skin into his hand.

He chuckles as he shifts the cup of her bra aside to tweak her nipple. “That’s it, doll,” he says, low and coaxing, “let me hear you.” The thumb rolling over her nipple makes her whimper, and she doesn’t dare to muffle the sound.

Teeth graze the side of her neck, but she shifts away from that sinful mouth and instead presses her lips to his. The last thing she needs is more hickeys like the ones already peppering her neck and chest.

Jubilee’s fingers slide into his hair again, the dark strands weaving between her fingers like silk. Leaving one hand tangled in his hair, she grabs his arm, slowly dragging her palm across the taut muscles and dark ink exposed to her, touching him everywhere. She fists her hand in his shirt, dragging his shirt up his back.

Sweet Pea sucks in a sharp breath as her lips move to his jaw, hot and wet kisses trailing across his skin. The flat of her tongue slides over his skin, and the cold kiss of the darkness follows in her wake. Again, he braces himself against the wall with one hand to keep from crushing her, and Jubilee hums as her mouth finds his neck. Kitten licks flick against his neck to taste the salt on his skin before she nips the underside of his jaw.

His hips shift away from hers, and she whimpers at the retreating pressure. Sweet Pea abandons her breast to slips a hand between them.

Her teeth graze the snake on the side of his neck, and Sweet Pea’s fingers pop open the button of her jeans swiftly. A beautiful moan leaves him as her tongue traces the outline of his tattoo, her hair tickling his skin. The smug satisfaction that crawls through her is ripped away by the hand that disappears inside her jeans, and a breathy sound escapes her as two thick fingers drag across her slit, her panties already soaked with her arousal.

This time, he doesn’t bother to tease her. Sweet Pea gathers her wetness on his fingers before pressing them to her clit, rubbing her in fast, tight circles. It’s absolutely maddening, and she whimpers at the jolt of electricity that follows each roll of his digits. Her head drops back, her eyes squeezed shut, and Sweet Pea licks his lips as he watches her expression contort with pleasure.

“Gonna cum for me?” he murmurs, watching as her chest heaves and her breaths come in sharp pants. He chuckles, and she can practically feel the vibrations running through her, each low note pattering against her back. Sweet Pea pinches her clit through her silky underwear. “Come on, doll, I wanna see you.”

There’s nothing gentle about the way he sends her over the edge. Maybe it’s because she’s been wound tight all day, or because she’s been dreaming about this, but her hips rock against his hand, each roll of his fingers making the knot inside her grow tighter and tighter until it’s almost painful. Tears bead at the corners of her eyes, and with a harsh curl of his fingers she snaps.

Jubilee cums with a silent scream, her entire body tensing. Sweet Pea’s mouth finds the curve of her shoulder and he bites down on the mark he left in her dream. The sting is soothed by the pleasure that rips through her entire body, leaving her writhing against him. Her legs lock around his waist; her nails dig into his back. His fingers don’t stop moving until she sags against him.

Neither of them move after that. Jubilee clings to him, boneless and breathless, and Sweet Pea holds her up. He’s still hard and hot against her thigh, but he lets her come down from the high he hurtled her towards.

Slowly, Sweet Pea lowers her back to the ground, keeping one hand on her hip as her legs tremble. Her hands slide from his hair, drifting down the sides of his neck to the arms still caging her against the side of the building. Exhaustion hits her at once, but the pleasant heat that sinks into her bones is worth it.

His hand slips from her pants, and Jubilee winces at the sticky feeling between her legs. Pressing her thighs together, she wets her lips and trails her hands lower on his torso until her fingers loop around the front of his jeans. The desire to touch him rises in her.

Sweet Pea rocks his hip into her hand as she strokes him through his jeans—

The side entrance to the Wyrm is thrown open with a loud bang. Jubilee rips her hand away from him. “Sweet Pea!” a man shouts as he steps into the ally. “You out here? My dad has a job for us.”

Sweet Pea swears under his breath and slaps a hand against the wall beside her head again, angling himself so that he’s covering her from any prying eyes. “Little busy, Jones,” he snaps as Jubilee yanks down her top and fumbles with the button of her jeans.

Jubilee jolts at the name, her eyes widening as her head snaps around.

“Tough shit,” the voice she recognizes as her brother’s replies. “You can screw someone when you get back, but we gotta go.” Sarcasm practically drips from his voice and Jubilee’s squeezes her eyes shit. “Hurry the fuck—” he cuts off when he catches sight of her, half-hidden by Sweet Pea’s broad shoulders. “Jubilee?”

“Son of a bitch,” she murmurs, sighing as she shoves Sweet Pea away from her. He goes willingly, his eyes narrowing as he looks between her and Jughead. Jubilee scoops her jacket off the ground and slips it on, determinedly avoiding eye contact with her brother.

The absolute last thing she needed tonight was to run into her goddamn brother after trying to hook up with someone in an ally.

“Why are you—what the hell are you doing here?” he fumbles over his words. A look of disgust crosses his face a moment later, the realization hitting. “Oh, for fucks sake, Jubilee, why would you—you know dad doesn’t—”

“Spare me the lecture, dumbass,” she cuts him off, rolling her eyes and running a hand through her tangled hair. “I’m twenty-four.” She doesn’t need her brother telling her who she can and can’t fuck. Her amber gaze slides back to Sweet Pea and she watches as he makes the connection, his entire body tensing. For a second, she stares, unsure what she’s supposed to say.

Sweet Pea stares right back at her, a look in his eyes that she can’t place. “Next time, doll,” he says, so low she barely hears him.

She spares him one last, lingering look before slipping away from the wall and hurrying past her brother. “Jubilee?” Jughead calls after her, but she doesn’t stop. The last thing she hears before reaching the street is “what the fuck?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Be sure to let me know your thoughts or leave an emoji with your reaction to the chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a huge thanks to Becca for beta reading this chapter for me! This one took a lot longer to finish than expected. I got busy with Halloween fics and then had a severe case of writer's block until two days before this was finished. As always thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!

A beat of bitter silence hangs in the air as Jughead stares after his sister, who doesn’t spare him a glance as she hurries out of the alley and onto the street, ignoring the bewildered call of her name. The click of her heels on the concrete is the only sound in the alley, and Jughead practically gawks at her as she leaves, still rooted in place by what he stumbled upon.

Sweet Pea’s gaze follows her as well. A small, amused grin tugs at his lips and his eyes stay glued to the sway of her hips in those tight jeans.

Heat swirls in his stomach as he thinks about how she was pressed up against him just moments ago, her mouth on his and her hands hot as they traveled across his chest and stomach, dipping lower and lower. The taste of her lingers on his tongue, something sweet and fruity that he can’t pin down, and he almost groans at the flavor.

Sweet Pea licks his lips and tries to ignore how tight his jeans are. He must look like a damn mess from her lips and hands, his cock still half-hard just from the thought of her pressed up against him, but he can’t find it in him to care, even as Jughead starts to shake beside him.

“What the fuck?” Jughead snaps, whirling on him. His chest puffs out, and he straightens his back, making himself look taller, though Sweet Pea still has several inches on him. And Sweet Pea isn’t surprised to find that same burning stare that Jubilee pinned him with earlier, the little spitfire. He can definitely see the family resemblance now, and he can’t believe he didn’t notice it before.

Instead of answering, Sweet Pea rolls his shoulders and forces his eyes away from Jubilee as she disappears down the streets, though the sweet smell of her perfume lingering on him tempts him to follow her.

He shakes his head to banish the thought.

Without looking at the fuming Jughead, Sweet Pea yanks his jacket off the ground and shrugs it back on. The familiar weight that settles on his shoulders makes him sigh, and the tantalizing pull of lust in his gut dampens as the scent of leather and smoke replaces something sweeter and floral.

The echo of her pleasure buzzes through him, and his hunger subsides.

Sweet Pea shoves his hands into his pockets, and Jughead grabs him by the shoulder when he tries to leave. Despite being shorter and thinner than him, the other man yanks him around, one hand fisted in the lapel of his jacket.

“What the hell was that?” Jughead snaps at him, fury swirling in his blue eyes. His jaw is clenched tight, his brows narrowed dangerously, and Sweet Pea nearly chuckles at the anger practically rolling off him in waves. With his chest puffed out like that, he looks the picture of his father.

But Sweet Pea still ranks higher than him.

He knocks Jughead’s hands aside easily and shoves him back a little harder than he means to. Jughead gasps as he stumbles, nearly tripping over himself, and Sweet Pea’s hands curl into tight fists. The anger that surges in him is laced with raw power from his recent meal. He’s quick to pull it down again.

“None of your fucking business, Jones,” Sweet Pea says, his voice low as he shrugs Jughead off. It’s nearly a growl, more gravely than usual, and he clenches his jaw. He sends the younger man a bored look, keeping a firm lock on his temper. It’s always worse after he feeds. And Jughead has a way of getting under his skin.

Jughead only glares back at him. “Hey!” he shouts at Sweet Pea again when the other Serpent heads for the mouth of the alley. “You don’t fuck around with my sister, asshole!”

This time Sweet Pea does laugh. He stops in his tracks, shaking his head. “Wow, look at you trying to play over-protective brother.” A part of him wants to tell the other man that Jubilee came on to him, that she tracked _him_ down and pulled _him_ into the alley for a quick fuck. He knows exactly how she tastes now, and there’s that sweet little sound she makes just before she cums.

Goading Jughead into a fight would be so easy right now, but they have more important things to do. He sobers as he remembers what the other Serpent said when he interrupted them. A job this late can only mean trouble.

He fumbles in his pocket for a cigarette, and Jughead huffs.

“Sweet Pea, I’m fucking serious, okay?” he says. His lips purse as Sweet Pea ignores him and lights his cigarette, taking a long drag. “Don’t make me tell—”

Snorting, he rolls his eyes. “Sure thing, your majesty,” Sweet Pea drawls. “Won’t happen again.” It’s an empty threat anyway. Jughead doesn’t have the balls to tell FP about any of this. Besides, he has no intention of making a habit of hooking up with FP Jones’ daughter.

“Sweet Pea—”

“You said there was a job?” he asks, quick to cut Jughead off.

For a second, Jughead looks like he wants to argue, but then he sighs. “Arms deal,” he says shortly, clearly still irritated, but willing to drop it. For now, at least. “Down by the docks.”

“Ghoulies?”

“Yeah.” Jughead slips his hands into his pockets. “They’re giving Holiday and Dutch some trouble, but dad doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it. Said the two of us can handle it. They’re just lookin’ to start shit with Malachai gone.”

Makes sense. Sweet Pea takes one last drag before dropping what’s left of his cigarette and crushing it beneath his boot. FP’s been giving the two of them more jobs lately, and Sweet Pea gets the feeling the old man is looking to retire soon.

“All right. Let’s go.” 

Jughead nods and takes a step forward, heading for the street. Sweet Pea grabs him by the collar of his shirt and yanks him back. Jughead inhales sharply, and Sweet Pea lowers his mouth to Jughead’s ear. 

“Don’t put your fucking hands on me again,” he tells the other man. It isn’t until Jughead nods that Sweet Pea lets him go.

* * *

The gravel crunches beneath his feet as he slips out of the truck, careful not to slam the driver’s side door behind him. Jughead slips out from the other side and glances at him over the hood, waiting begrudgingly for him to make a decision.

The ride to the docks was tense, to say the least. Jughead still seemed sour about catching Sweet Pea with his sister, and Sweet Pea was more than content to ignore Jughead as usual. They’ve never quite gotten along, but damn it if they don’t work well together on jobs like this. Sweet Pea may not be nearly as impulsive as he was as a teenager, but Jughead is still the better strategist.

Sweet Pea’s eyes sweep the area slowly. The low light doesn’t hinder his senses, but even still it’s hard to see between the shipping containers in the dark. He grits his teeth as a sour taste settles on his tongue.

“Anything from Dutch or Holiday?” he asks Jughead, keeping his voice low just in case. Slowly, his hand slips into his back pocket and he pulls out his switchblade. Hopefully, the Ghoulies will already be gone.

Jughead doesn’t answer right away, checking his phone for any messages from the other Serpents. “Not yet,” he finally says before swearing under his breath. He squints into the darkness, looking between a pair of shipping containers and pursing his lips. “Do we know where they are?”

“Dutch usually holes up on the west side of the docks when he meets with his regular fence. Calls it his lucky spot.”

“Bad luck for Dutch,” Jughead murmurs back, following Sweet Pea from the truck down to the docks. He pulls out his own knife, fiddling with it.

Sweet Pea doesn’t respond. He doesn’t know much about what Dutch and Holiday are doing out here tonight, just that Dutch has an in with an arms dealer and tends to work as a middle man selling to rich assholes that want big guns. Mostly, he stays out of it. He doesn’t give a damn what Dutch and Holiday do, so long as it doesn’t get him killed.

The crunch of gravel beneath their feet is the only sound aside from the gentle lapping of waves, and Sweet Pea’s jaw clenches. His eyes narrow as he sweeps the area again. “It’s too fucking quiet out here,” he murmurs, more to himself than Jughead.

It’s almost unnerving how quiet it is, and the jittery feeling isn’t from feeding.

“What were you expecting?” Jughead asks.

“Not this,” he says, unsure how to describe it. “The Ghoulies are usually a lot louder than this.” They aren’t the most stealthy bunch. Usually, they can hear them coming before they see them.

“Maybe Holiday and Dutch scared them off?”

He doubts that. The Ghoulies are too strung-out on whatever it is they’re cooking to be scared off by anything, even a hulking bastard like Dutch. “Keep your eyes open,” Sweet Pea tells Jughead, not taking his eyes off the shipping containers. They aren’t far from the west side now, but there’s still nothing.

The two of them weave through the containers silently in the dark, watching their steps for broken glass or rubble littering the ground.

Jughead comes up beside him as they get closer to Dutch’s usual spot, and they both press close against the side of the nearest container. Their leather jackets help them blend in with the darkness, but as soon as they step out of it, they’ll be easy targets for the Ghoulies.

Ahead of them, metal creaks. Sweet Pea and Jughead both freeze, eyes wide and shoulders stiff. A low, muffled voice cuts through the quiet as someone swears sharply from around the corner, maybe a few yards off. It’s hard to tell on the docks. Everything echoes.

Sucking on his teeth, he weighs their options. They could both charge in, but they don’t know who it is. It could be the Ghoulies or one of Dutch’s buyers. They could be outnumbered, but they could get the drop on whoever it is, catch them off-guard. Or it could get them both shot.

Frown deepening, Sweet Pea glances back at Jughead, and the other Serpent nods, understanding. Without a word, he slips away from the shadow of the cargo container and rounds the corner, scouting ahead.

Almost immediately, Jughead yelps as he’s suddenly thrown against one of the shipping containers. The crash against the metal container echoes around the docks, and Sweet Pea swears as he rips away from the wall and whips around the corner, flicking open his blade. The dark beard and leather jacket make him pause before lunging at the man. Sweet Pea sighs, gritting his teeth as his hands clench into fists.

“Dutch!” Sweet Pea snaps at the burly man pinning Jughead against the side of the container. The older Serpent freezes with his fist just inches from Jughead’s face, his other hand caught in the collar of his jacket, forcing the younger man onto his toes as Dutch yanks him around.

Gray eyes flick towards him, and Dutch’s bushy eyebrows rise towards his hairline when he sees Sweet Pea. “Dammit, Sweet Pea?” He glances at Jughead and grunts when he realizes who they are. “What the fuck are you two doing out here?” he grumbles, dropping Jughead unceremoniously back to his feet.

“Supposedly saving your ass,” Jughead murmurs. His nose wrinkles in disgust as Dutch spits on the ground.

“Where’s Holiday?” Sweet Pea asks, pointedly ignoring Jughead. He scans the area quickly, but there’s no sign of the other man on the dock. He flicks his knife shut and slips it into his pocket as his gaze settles back on Dutch, who leans back against the container.

There’s a black case on the ground near his feet, unmarked and locked tight, and Sweet Pea’s eyes narrow when he sees it. If tonight was meant to be a drop-off, Dutch is as good as fucked.

Dutch huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, his leather jacket stretching around his broad frame. Two inches shorter than Sweet Pea and twice as wide, Dutch is a mean old bastard that’s been with the Serpents since before Sweet Pea could walk. No one smart would fuck with him on a good day. Aside from the Ghoulies, anyway.

“Couple of Ghoulie bastards took a shot at us. I called FP and Holiday went after them.” Dutch slips his hand into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. He places one between his lips, and the flame illuminates the area briefly.

Sweet Pea crosses his arms. “How many?” he asks as Dutch takes a long drag. Smoke billows in the air around them and Jughead rolls his eyes. Part of him wants to ask why Dutch didn’t go after them too, but he bites his tongue.

Shrugging, Dutch takes another drag, though his eyes narrow like he knows exactly what Sweet Pea is thinking. “Three. Maybe four. Didn’t get a good look at ‘em. I would have gone after them, but Holiday can take care of himself.” Dutch glances down at the black case by his feet and taps it with his foot. “And I got precious cargo, boy.”

Sweet Pea exchanges a glance with Jughead, but neither comments on Dutch’s cargo. The less they know, the better, especially if the cops get involved. “Right,” Sweet Pea drawls. “Which way did they go?”

“South end,” Dutch tells him.

“Fuck.” Sweet Pea runs his fingers through his hair and swallows down a frustrated sound. The south end of the docks is Ghoulie territory. He wouldn’t be surprised if there were more of them lurking around down there. “You gonna be here a while?” he asks Dutch suddenly, pinning the older man with a harsh look. He should have gone after Holiday immediately.

Dutch stares right back at him as he takes another drag, then tosses his cigarette to the ground and crushes it under his heel. “Nah, fuckers jumped us after the exchange.”

“Anyone else hear anything?” Jughead asks, speaking up for the first time as he notices Sweet Pea’s frustration. “Like your supplier?”

Dutch shakes his head. “Not this side of the docks.”

At least that’s one thing they don’t have to worry about. And anyone that _did_ hear something this side of the docks isn’t likely to say shit about it. People out at night in this area tend to stay out of things between the Serpents and Ghoulies.

That’s the only good news he’s getting tonight. They still need to find get Holiday and go back to the Wyrm, and God knows Dutch won’t be any help so long as he has that gun case on him. And the Serpents need that cash, too.

He sighs again, kicking at the gravel. “Jughead?” He looks at the other man, quirking a brow.

“You go get Holiday,” he says. “I can ride back with Dutch.”

Sweet Pea snorts at being volunteered, but decides it’s better than dealing with Dutch any longer. “Asshole,” he murmurs. Straightening his jacket, he rolls his shoulders and offers the others one last glance before twisting around on his heel and heading to the south end of the docks. “Call me if they circle back,” he calls over his shoulder.

He doesn’t wait for a response from either man before slipping away.

Instinct guides him through the rows of shipping containers towards the south end. He’s faster now without Jughead, able to track them easier. He can handle three of them, even with a gun, and he only hopes Holiday will be fine until he gets there.

They make it easy to find them. Muffled laughter and cursing comes from up ahead, and Sweet Pea swears under his breath as he darts forward.

There’s three of them. Two have Holiday pinned up against a wall by his shoulders, and Sweet Pea rounds the corner just in time to watch the third’s fist crack across Holiday’s cheek hard enough to make the Serpent wince. The Ghoulies cackle at the sight, taunting him as they hit him again.

The metal scent of blood in the air makes Sweet Pea’s jaw clench.

At once, his senses sharpen. His hands clench into fists. And he moves without thinking, crossing the empty space in a second.

The Ghoulies don’t notice him until he’s right behind them, but it’s already too late.

Sweet Pea lashes out and grabs the man beating Holiday. His grip is too tight and something cracks. The Ghoulie manages a startled, pained yelp before Sweet Pea hauls him off Holiday and drives his fist into his nose. There’s a satisfying crunch of bone beneath his knuckles, and the Ghoulie crumples to the ground.

He hits the concrete hard, passed out, and the others stare in shock, nearly releasing Holiday.

Sweet Pea straightens back to his full height, towering at least a few inches over both of them, and shoves his hands into his pockets. He fiddles with his knife as the remaining Ghoulies exchange a look. One lets go of Holiday with one hand, grabbing for the gun tucked into the back of his jeans. Neither say a word, but he can hear the slight hitch in their breathing as they’re pinned beneath his stare.

“I wouldn’t,” Sweet Pea says, a warning, his voice low and guttural as it bursts from his chest. It stills both men, and the one reaching for his gun drops his hand back to his side, almost compelled to do so. “Take him and go.” He nods towards the Ghoulie still lying in a crumpled heap on the ground. “Before I change my mind.”

They hesitate at first, but pull themselves together. They drop Holiday’s arms, releasing him, and Sweet Pea keeps his eyes locked on them as they gather their friend and slink back off into the shadows without a word.

“Not so tough with Malachai gone, are you, ya bastards?” Holiday grumbles, glaring after the retreating figures as he fixes his jacket and spits blood onto the ground.

Sweet Pea relaxes and greets him with a short nod. “Holiday,” he murmurs, glancing the bail bondsman up and down briefly to make sure he’s all right. He looks fine as far as Sweet Pea can tell. A couple of bruises are already starting to bloom across his left cheek, but they’re nearly hidden beneath his stubble. There’s blood on his mouth too, but with the way those Ghoulies slunk off he’d be willing to bet Holiday got more than his fair share of hits in, too.

Holiday wipes some of the blood off his chin and sends him a wry grin that makes his brown eyes crinkle at the edges. “Sweet Pea.” He nods back and wets his lips, glancing Sweet Pea up and down. “I thought it was your night off, kid.”

Snorting, Sweet Pea leans back against the side of one of the shipping containers. “Yeah well, you know how it is,” he says, shrugging slightly. He’s pretty sure it was Holiday’s night off, too. They can both thank Dutch for being out here tonight.

As he straightens his jacket, Holiday seems to come to the same conclusion. “Dutch okay?” There’s a tinge of worry in his voice, and Holiday’s eyes narrow in concern. The two of them were new initiates together back in the day, around the same time as FP and Sweet Pea’s dad.

“Dutch is fine,” Sweet Pea tells him. “Old bastard went back to the truck with Jughead. They’re probably on their way back to the Wyrm already.” Or dropping off whatever the hell was in that gun case. “You?”

Holiday scoffs and puffs out his chest. “Me? Those bastards couldn’t get a shot on me if I was standing still and five feet away.”

His lips twitch at the brag and he shakes his head. “All right, old man,” he says. “Let’s get you back to the Wyrm. First drink’s on me.” The mention of free booze makes Holiday grin, and Sweet Pea’s sure he’ll be paying for an entire round of drinks tonight instead of just the one.

* * *

Sweet Pea leans against the bar, nursing his drink as Fangs prattles on and on beside him, six drinks in and already past drunk. Predictably, the Wyrm was already buzzing by the time they got back from their job, and FP had only spared him and Jughead a brief nod before taking Dutch and Holiday to his office upstairs. By the time they came back out, it was an hour later and Sweet Pea was one whiskey in.

The alcohol burns his throat as it goes down and pools in his stomach, accompanied by a familiar heat as he scans the bar, looking for any new faces instinctively.

Fangs leans back on his stool and glances up at Sweet Pea suddenly, cutting off whatever he’d been saying to Jughead mid-sentence. His eyes narrow in thought, and Sweet Pea raises a brow as he takes another drink.

“Who was that girl earlier?” Fangs asks him, words slurring together in a way that’s nearly unintelligible.

Sweet Pea stiffens, and on Fangs’ other side, Jughead grits his teeth. His grip tightens subtly on his drink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, man,” Sweet Pea says, avoiding Fangs gaze with a shrug. Hopefully he won’t press for information. The last thing he needs tonight is for Jughead to get pissy with him again. “I’m gonna head out.” He looks at Jughead over Fangs’ head. “You got him?”

Jughead looks like he wants to refuse, but then nods sharply. “Yeah, I got him.” He goes back to his beer, a sour look on his face, and Sweet Pea rolls his eyes.

“The hell you don’t,” Fangs slurs, using his now empty bottle to point at Sweet Pea accusingly. “You wouldn’t forget a face that pretty—or _that ass_,” he tacks on, mumbling the last part and chuckling to himself.

Sweet Pea sighs, but doesn’t disagree. He’d be a liar if he said she wasn’t absolutely gorgeous, but that’s not why he was interested. Her showing up here like that was ballsy, to say the least, and he respects that.

Jughead looks absolutely murderous at this point, and Sweet Pea hurries to shrug on his jacket and grab his keys before Fangs decides to say anything else.

Of course, luck is never on his side.

“She seemed pretty pissed at you,” Fangs continues as Sweet Pea straightens his coat and shoves his things into his pocket. He slaps down cash on the bar for his drinks and Fangs chuckles to himself, oblivious to the tension around him. “Nearly bit your head off. Thought she was gonna beat the shit out of you or something.” He snorts. “Next thing I know she’s leading you out of the bar and—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head with a laugh. “Unbelievable, man. I don’t know how you do it.”

“Me neither,” he says, half-lying through his teeth. Sweet Pea nods at them once before shoving away from the bar and heading for the side door. Fangs calls out an obnoxious goodbye, and Sweet Pea smiles despite himself, shaking his head at his friend’s antics.

The October night greets him immediately upon stepping out of the Wyrm, and he finds himself in the same alley as earlier tonight. This time alone. Already he misses the feel of a warm body pressed against his.

Sweet Pea shivers and pulls his coat tighter around himself, leeching the last remains of heat from the well-worn leather. His breath fogs in the crisp air, and the chill tickles at the back of his throat.

Absentmindedly, he plays with his keys, but decides to walk instead, just to be safe, but also for the sake of pretenses. A few drinks might not seem like a lot, but he should still be well past the point of tipsy, even if he can barely feel the alcohol.

He turns left out of the alley and begins the slow walk to his apartment, enjoying the quiet after a long night and mindlessly following the familiar path home.

Sweet Pea smells them before he sees or hears them. Chemicals mixed with the sharp, acidic scent of rage clouds the alley and he stops, tensing, more sober than he was a moment ago. Gravel skitters across the ground and crunches beneath someone’s shoes, and Sweet Pea sighs when two figures appear at the end of the alley in front of him, blocking his path. He doesn’t have to turn to know they’re behind him as well.

Four on one. He likes those odds.

Leather jackets studded with metal glint in the low light filtering in from the street. He sighs and slowly drags his hands from his pockets, glaring at the Ghoulies up ahead. “Southside Serpent territory,” he calls across the alley, a low warning. “Get the fuck out of here. Now.”

None of them move. They just stand there watching him. Sweet Pea clenches his jaw, his hands curling into tight fists. “Didn’t you assholes get the message earlier?”

“You put Dante in the hospital,” one of them says, taking a step closer. The blue bandana covering his face keeps him hidden, but Sweet Pea recognizes the voice from down at the docks. “Ezekiel isn’t happy.”

Chuckling, Sweet Pea shakes his head. “Ask me if I give a shit.” He shifts his stance, planting his feet firmly beneath him while still trying to remain relaxed. “I’m not gonna tell you again.”

“You know the rules,” the other Ghoulie says, always theatrical, and he can practically smell the chemical scent of whatever they were cooking. Fucking junkies.

Blood for blood. Though, they seem to have forgotten why Sweet Pea got involved in the first place.

“You bastards are really getting on my nerves tonight,” he says, just loud enough for them to hear. One of them lifts a hand, gesturing to the men behind Sweet Pea, and he snorts. “I really wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

They don’t listen.

The scuff of shoes across the ground is all the warning he gets. He barely ducks out of the way in time before a bat crunches against the side of the alley where his head was, a sick crack splitting through the quiet as metal scrapes across the brick wall.

Sweet Pea whirls on his heel and grabs the bat in his palm as the Ghoulie swings at him a second time, stopping it just inches from his face. His eyes flash gold in the darkness and his grip tightens enough to dent the metal beneath his fingers. Heat bursts across his skin, and he growls low in his throat.

The Ghoulie’s eyes widen, but his pupils are so huge that Sweet Pea knows he’s too high to remember any of this in the morning. And that’s just fine with him.

He practically rips the bat from the other man’s hands and lashes out, kicking his assailant in the chest and knocking the breath out of him. He wheezes, crumpling, but Sweet Pea doesn’t pause to watch him fall, already rounding on the next Ghoulie.

His fist cracks across their jaw, his rings digging into their skin, sure to leave dark bruises behind. The metal digs into his own knuckles, but he doesn’t care. It’s a blur of motion around him as they come at him from all sides, trying to pin him to the wall or get him on the ground so he can’t move.

The bat is knocked out of his grasp at some point, and Sweet Pea swears as something sharp catches him above the eye, drawing blood. Someone grabs the back of his jacket, yanking him back, and he stumbles slightly, squinting through the blood trickling into his eye.

Sweet Pea knocks the legs out from beneath one of them, lashing out blindly, letting instinct overtake him. He throws his arm back, driving his elbow back into a chest. The man behind him grunts, releasing him. Quick as a snake, Sweet Pea twists and gets him on the ground. He stomps on the man’s knee and it snaps, making him cry out on the ground.

Before he can react, one of them gathers the discarded bat from the ground and swings, catching him across the ribs hard enough for him to feel two of them snap beneath the force of the blow. He hisses between his teeth, doubling over with a wince, and it gives one of the others an opening to swipe at him with a knife. It cuts him across the shoulder.

Blood leaks down his arm, but the dull throbbing is shoved aside by the burning heat that floods through his veins. His temper flares dangerously, and he starts to tremble—jitters from feeding.

Usually, it’s easy enough to drown out that anger, but not tonight. Not with everything that’s happened. He’s been aching for a good fight lately.

It’s a blur of motion after that as a red haze settles around him, drowning out everything else. He thinks someone stabs him in the arm again, but he hardly feels it. Besides, in a matter of minutes it won’t matter anyway. Another Ghoulie goes limp as Sweet Pea’s fist collides with his jaw. Blood is slick on his hands. His own. Theirs. He can’t be sure. But his fingers ache with each blow, and he doesn’t stop until most of them are on the ground.

Eventually, there’s only one left, and he releases a wet gurgling sound as Sweet Pea pins him against the side of the alley, his hands fisted in the lapels of his jacket. As strung out as he is, the Ghoulie only stares at him, eyes wide and confused. Blood trickles from his broken nose, and his bottom lip is split open and puffy.

The Ghoulie practically snarls at Sweet Pea, revealing bloody teeth from where he must have bitten his tongue. Then, he spits at him, laughing.

“Fuck you,” is all the Ghoulie says. He struggles against Sweet Pea’s grip, but it’s too strong. He tries to kick him, lashing out with his legs, but the blows only glance off Sweet Pea as the Ghoulie starts to wear himself out.

In response, Sweet Pea fists a hand in his collar and throws him against the wall again, shoving him against the bricks so hard that the wall gives beneath the pressure, beginning to crack and crumble.

The Ghoulie spits out a slur, glaring at him.

Rage wells rapidly in Sweet Pea’s chest, causing his grip to tighten on the man’s collar. Unable to stop himself, he pulls back one of his arms, intent on beating the Ghoulie again. At the last second, Sweet Pea drives his fist into the wall beside the man’s head instead, and the man flinches as dust and rubble crumble from the wall.

“Walk away,” Sweet Pea growls at him, reigning in his temper. “Before you really piss me off.”

His eyes glow again, gold and predatory, and the hitch in the Ghoulie’s breathing is louder than it should be. Blue eyes lock on his like a scared little animal. “Demon,” he chokes out as Sweet Pea’s grip slackens on his collar.

The word makes his jaw clench, but he lets the Ghoulie go, watching silently as he stumbles away, nearly tripping over his friend in his haste. He keeps glancing frantically at Sweet Pea over his shoulder as he runs, like he expects the Serpent to chase him, but Sweet Pea stays rooted in his spot until the man disappears back the way he came.

It would be easy to go after him, to knock him out just like his friends, but there’s no reason to. No one would ever believe him anyway.

* * *

Sweet Pea tosses off his jacket as soon as he steps into his apartment, exhaling between his teeth as he strains his shoulder in the process. He rolls his arm, wincing when it pops sickly. By now, his buzz has worn off completely, the bitterness of the whiskey he drank replaced with a sickly sweet copper scent that clings to his clothes. It makes his stomach churn as he hurries through his apartment.

He leaves the bathroom door cracked open behind him.

Sweet Pea swears as he peels his shirt over his head, stretching in a way that pulls at the nasty bruise on his side. Fucking Ghoulies. He doesn’t bother looking at himself in the mirror as he undresses, able to feel every bruise on his skin as they throb. His left side took the brunt of it tonight.

He peels the rings from his fingers, wincing each time his bruised knuckles are forced to bend. With one hand he grapples with his belt, tossing it aside carelessly. It clangs against the tile floor. The button of his jeans pops open easily, and he nearly bites his tongue as he’s reminded of earlier this evening, soft hands palming his through his jeans and—

The last of his clothing drops to the floor and he throws the shower curtain open, yanking the knob until the water is scalding before he steps inside.

A hiss slips through his teeth at the overwhelming heat. The water stings his skin where it beats against the bruises scattered across his side, and Sweet Pea forces himself to stand still under the spray.

Blood drips from his hands and splatters in the water at the bottom of the shower, turning it pink against the white tiles as the steady stream swirls around his feet. The residue of the night is washed down the drain. He squeezes his eyes shut against the sharp, metallic scent clinging to his skin, so strong that he can practically taste the blood on his tongue.

He swears under his breath as the raw skin of his knuckles begins to heal, his flesh knitting back together slowly and painfully. The roar of the water drowns out his curses and Sweet Pea runs a shaking hand through his slick hair, shoving the black strands away from his eyes. The other stays clenched against the wall, and he glances at the bruised and bloody skin, his fingers mottled black and purple, broken in places.

Fire laces across his skin and he tries not to flinch as his bones snap back into place. The pain only lasts for a second, but it’s enough to make his stomach heave, and he nearly blacks out as white light dots his vision. It never gets any easier.

The burning sensation that traces down his spine like a delicate finger settles, and a low, pulsing heat takes its place, hot in the center of his back. It begins to spread a moment later, surrounding him like the warm water beating against his skin. Droplets slide down his chest in teasing little lines. The muscles in his stomach clench in response and he grits his teeth.

It isn’t until the water runs clear again that he exhales slowly through his nose.

Already, hunger pains are beginning to gnaw at him, a slow ache that settles in his stomach like a pit that’s only going to grow. The low growl that escapes him is muffled by the water and he just barely manages to resist beating his fist against the tiles. That would only make it worse.

Only a few hours and he’s already wasted some of the energy he stole from that woman at the Wyrm—_Jubilee_. Such a pretty name. He doubts he’d remember her otherwise. Usually an orgasm like that would keep him satiated for at least a day or two, but the energy is never as strong when he uses his hands or tongue.

_ Fuck _, if Jughead hadn’t have interrupted them, this wouldn’t be a problem.

This is the second time it’s happened now, twice in as many days, and he sighs at the pressure beginning to build in his gut. She left him hard and hot, and a familiar hunger begins to grow inside him as his eyes flutter shut. His fingers dig into the tile beside his head as the muscles in his stomach start to clench.

She’s thinking about him again. He can feel the subtle pull of her on his mind, almost like a tether, and he wants to hate it. It isn’t often that he slips into people’s dreams like that, even less so more than once.

He doesn’t make a habit of it, but last night it was so easy. He was half asleep himself when he could suddenly feel her beneath him, all gentle hands and soft sighs as she pulled him closer. He hadn’t lied to her, the dream was all her, and it certainly didn’t disappoint. Arousal was thick in the air in a way he knew far too wall, and he could practically taste it on her, even through the fever dream. Sweet and fruity with just a little hint of something else that he couldn’t place. And the thought of him leaving her so wound up she needed to take care of it herself was just a little too satisfying to ignore.

And this afternoon, she was thinking about him again. He could feel the tickle of it when he was at the shop, and like an idiot, he let it reel him in, getting just as lost in it as she was until the daydream abruptly ended. He wasn’t expecting her to track him down later, and he sure as hell didn’t think she’d be FP Jones’ daughter, but that only makes it a little more tempting, especially after Jughead told him to stay away.

Like playing with fire.

Electricity crackles across his skin as he considers finding her again, but he shoves the thought of it away before it can fester into something more. He shouldn’t still be thinking about her, but it’s hard not to when her taste is on his tongue and the breathy sounds she made are still fresh in his mind. Even still, it’s unlike him. He never dwells on the women he sleeps with, not in all the years he’s been like this, but then, none of them have ever sought him out before. And to burst into the Wyrm and get in his face like that…

He chuckles despite himself. Such a little spitfire. He likes that. She knows a hell of a lot more than she should already, but he isn’t worried about that. No one would believe her if she told them the truth, and she seemed to want him just as much as he wanted her tonight.

Heat flares in his stomach again and he grits his teeth, sorely reminded of the fact. He’s been blue-balled twice now, and he was already on edge from it, but the job and being jumped by the Ghoulies only made his blood boil hotter.

Sweet Pea’s eyes flutter shut. Slowly, his hand slides down his stomach as he braces himself against the wall. A low groan rumbles in his chest as he grasps his cock, palming himself firmly, grinding against his hand. Just thinking about her has him half-hard already, and he swallows, his mouth suddenly bone dry.

He strokes himself languidly, imagining smoother, softer hands in place of his. Water drips from his chin, teasing little streams running across his skin, making everything slick and warm. And he pictures _her_ there with him: her dark hair sticking to her back and shoulders, glossy and black as night; the water running over her creamy skin, making her shiver as she presses her chest to his, her breasts soft against the hard muscle of his torso as he pins her between him and the wall.

Fingers ghost across the back of his neck and trail down between his shoulder blades, pulling him closer. Amber eyes peer up at him through dark eyelashes as she circles the head of his cock, thumbing the long, puckered vein on the side of his shaft, playing with him. She takes her lip between her teeth, biting down gently to hide her smirk. Such a little tease. That sounds about right.

The phantom sensation of lips on his neck nearly makes his eyes snap open, but he forces them to stay shut, unwilling to let the fantasy slip away. He can almost feel her heat, her torso pressed against his as she grinds her hips against his and strokes him from base to tip.

By the time he tightens his grip, stroking himself from base to tip in long, slow glides of his hand, he’s already sensitive enough to moan at the feeling. He circles his hips, thrusting gently against his tight, closed fist and reveling in the slick sound his hand makes. His cock is already throbbing in a way that means it won’t take him long to get himself off, just a few minutes and a tight grip, but instead he draws it out, making every touch count.

His fingernails scrape against the tile wall, his breaths coming in short, sharp pants as he fucks into his hand. His grip is just loose enough to be teasing, and he swears under his breath, practically trembling. An impatient tug in his stomach makes him groan, but he keeps it slow, his pace steady. His cock only gets harder as he denies himself.

Sweet Pea’s thumb catches on the sensitive underside of the head of his cock and the feeling makes him gasp audibly. His hips stutter and his hand slips against the wall. He tightens his grip, his cock twitching in his hand, and for a second he fucks himself roughly, chasing the pleasure, only to slow again.

Those soft fingers trail up his chest and she traces the tattoo on the side of his neck with her tongue, kissing and nipping at his skin before she smiles, knowing exactly what she’s doing to him. The _minx_.

His breathing becomes heavier as he lets go of his cock completely, only running his fingertips up and down his length until the lack of stimulation is almost painful, but just enough to keep him on the cusp. Almost erratically, he alternates between those teasing touches and a tight, firm hold, the change in pressure almost maddening. _Dizzying_. He doesn’t know how long he keeps at it, his eyes still squeezed shut tightly even as precum begins to drip over his fingers, only aiding in the slick glide of his hand against his cock.

That ache in his stomach intensifies, becoming a slow burn. His cock twitches again and his balls start to tighten. It feels so fucking good, the tension in his muscles, the fire licking at the base of his spine, the way his cock gets more and more sensitive—

Sweet Pea moans loudly as he grinds his hips into his hand, thrusting roughly as his grip tightens. God, he’s so damn _close_—

It would have been so fucking filthy if she’d fucked him in that alley tonight, dropped to her knees in front of him and sucked him off while her dad and brother were right inside. And she must have known it too. The dirty girl. Must have known they could have been just a wall away, could have walked out just a little later and found her like that, with his cock thrusting against the back of her throat and cum dripping from her swollen lips.

It’s with that image in his head that he cums with a low groan, his hips stuttering as his jaw slackens and a hoarse groan tumbles from his mouth. Milky fluid runs over his fingers and drips onto the shower floor. He continues to stroke himself slowly, riding out his high until he stops shaking and the pleasure settles into a hazy warmth.

He stands there panting until the water runs cold, satisfied for now, but not satiated. Sweet Pea reaches behind him, fumbling for the knobs and shutting off the water. The fantasy slips away like smoke, but those amber eyes won’t leave him, even as he steps from the shower into the open air.

He’ll need to feed again soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Be sure to scream at me in a comment or leave a series of emojies expressing your emotional state through out this chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try to keep updates to every other week, but with the holiday season approaching, I have a lot of other things to get done. As always, a huge thanks to my beta reader, Becca, and to everyone reading this!

She’s going to be so damn late. Rehearsal starts in less than ten minutes, and she can’t afford to be late if she ever wants a chance at first chair.

Jubilee curses under her breath as she nearly trips over her own heel, but she doesn’t stop. The last thing she needs is a twisted ankle, but if she’s late today, the conductor will have her ass. Their next performance might not be for weeks, but already he’s acting like a total hardass. Not to mention how _Lydia_ might freak out. She’s not sure which would be worse, if she’s being honest.

And she doesn’t even have a good excuse today. At least, not one that’s believable by any stretch. She can’t exactly tell people she lost track of time trying to figure out what the hell the guy she hooked up with this weekend is. There’s no way to explain that in a way that doesn’t make her sound absolutely crazy, but she knows what she saw this weekend. What she _felt_. And Midge and Lydia don’t even know she went to find him.

The dreams have only gotten more vivid every night, more _real_, and she wonders if he’s doing it on purpose. That seems like him. A total tease. He hasn’t left any more marks on her skin, and if she didn’t know better, she’d think it was all in her head. Sweet Pea all but confirmed there was something off about him before, and she’s pretty sure she’s figured out what.

It wasn’t that hard once she found the right combination of words.

What she found should probably scare her, but it doesn’t. Maybe that’s the crazy part. It just makes her even more curious than she was before.

She jolts when her phone starts to ring, the sound loud and obnoxious. It’s probably an alarm telling her she’s late. Or a frantic call from Lydia to chew her out. Another mumbled curse falls from her mouth as she fishes it out of her bag, trying to juggle her purse and violin while avoiding everyone else on the sidewalk.

Jubilee rolls her eyes when she sees the name that pops up on the screen, but accepts the call. “What do you want, dumbass?” she asks before he can get a word out. With her phone tucked safely between her ear and shoulder, she speeds up, nearly jogging down the sidewalk.

A scoff comes from the other end. “Shouldn’t you be at rehearsal?” Jughead questions, clearly disgruntled at her greeting. She can practically picture the face he’s making: lips pursed and brows furrowed into a broody little scowl. He’s nothing if not predictable.

“Shouldn’t you be dead?”

“Actually, I’m grocery shopping,” Jughead tells her, as if she’s supposed to care about what he’s buying for lunch today. He’s probably hovering after the other night. She managed a full twenty-four hours without a barrage of texts and calls, but she should have known it would only be a matter of time until he decided to go full overprotective brother on her.

He pauses for dramatic effect, humming as he pulls something off one of the shelves, and Jubilee sighs, fighting the urge to smack him even though he’s not there. “Dad requested spaghetti,” he says so nonchalantly that she nearly misses it, “so I hope you’re not on some weird, no carbs thing again.”

“Oh, fuck,” she blurts, groaning when she realizes what he’s getting at. She didn’t realize it was already that time of the month again. God, she hates family dinner night.

“That’s right!” Jughead says, voice filled with fake cheer. “Betty and I are hosting this week.”

Immediately, she wonders if it’s too late to schedule a lesson for Friday night.

Jughead continues after a moment of silence. “You’re welcome, by the way. It was supposed to be your turn, but with rehearsals, I figured you’d forget. You’re on dessert duty now.” Begrudgingly, she has to thank him for that. If it were up to her this week, they’d just be ordering takeout.

Jubilee adjusts her grip on her phone as she jogs across the street, pulling her jacket tighter around herself as the breeze picks up. “If I promise to never make fun of you again, will you tell them I’m sick and can’t make it?”

“Well, we both know you wouldn’t follow through, so I’m gonna have to pass on that. You’re never busy on Friday’s anyway, so I don’t think there’s any getting out of this one.” She purses her lips. “Besides,” Jughead says, “I’m already lying for you about one thing so…” He trails off slowly, and she can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

“I wouldn’t call it lying so much as keeping your mouth shut,” she corrects him, glancing down at her watch as reaches the front steps of the orchestra hall. Right on time. “Anyway, making out with a Serpent isn’t that big of a deal.” Granted, he’s not a normal human being, but that’s beside the point. Unless Jughead knows something she doesn’t.

He snorts. “No, but showing up at the Wyrm and trying to fuck one is. Do you want garlic bread?”

“Obviously, I want garlic bread,” she huffs, jogging up the steps. “And I don’t need your permission to hook up with someone. _Or_ dad’s. And if you don’t like it, you know where you can shove your opinion.” Jubilee shifts her purse and violin case as she nudges open the front doors.

“No, but you’ve made it perfectly clear that you want nothing to do with the Serpents.”

A bitter smile tugs at her lips. “You mean, you and dad made that choice for me?” She’s not the one that wanted to go to Toledo. Neither of them bothered to ask her what she wanted.

He sighs. “Jubilee—”

She’s quick to cut him off. “Spare me.” Right now she doesn’t need nor want a lecture from him. “Look, what you saw was a one time thing, okay? Drop it,” she says, lying through her teeth. Jughead doesn’t need to know about that night at the club. And he _definitely_ doesn’t need to know about the dreams she’s been having.

A whisper of “next time, doll” tickles the shell of her ear, and she shivers as it works down her spine like fingertips on her back, slow and teasing. Heat swirls in her stomach. She can almost feel his hands on her hips, pulling her closer, but she’s quick to shove the thought aside.

Maybe it really is just her.

On the other side of the phone Jughead is quiet for a while. “Just come over Friday,” he says, just loud enough for her to hear before he takes on a more teasing tone. “Please? JB misses you. She’s coming home for the weekend, and you know how much she loves your brownies.”

Despite herself, Jubilee cracks a smile as she makes her way to the auditorium. She has just enough time to set up before rehearsal starts. “Are you just trying to get me to make you brownies?” Jughead sputters out a half-hearted protest, and she giggles, shaking her head. “Fine. But if you mention anything to Dad, I’m gonna punch you in the throat.”

He chuckles. “Duly noted. Have fun at rehearsal.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you Friday.” She ends the call with a click and slips her phone back into her purse, hurrying to her seat.

“Someone’s a little late,” a teasing voice says from behind Jubilee as she sets up her sheet music. She jumps a little in response, still on edge from everything that’s been happening lately, and her head snaps up. Leaning over the chair beside her, Midge grins mischievously, the cat that got the cream.

“Jesus, Midge,” Jubilee sighs and brushes her hair away from her face. “Don’t do that.”

In response, Midge just smiles wider and hops around the row of sleek, black chairs, plopping down onto the unoccupied one beside Jubilee as she reaches for her violin case. “Busy morning?” she asks, shifting to sit with her legs crossed beneath her.

Her fingers hesitate on the clasp. “Something like that,” she says vaguely, searching for an excuse. She settles on, “Jughead called. We’re having a family dinner on Friday, so you’re going to have to be your own wingman this time.”

Midge groans and sags against the chair. “Yikes. Good luck with that. Also, rude.”

“That’s not even the bad part,” Jubilee mumbles, wishing rehearsal would hurry up and start already.

That piques Midge’s interest. Her hazel eyes widen a fraction, a little sparkle flickering in her gaze as it snaps back to Jubilee. “Oh?” She leans forward, bracing her hands on her knees. “I sense drama.” She stares expectantly, rocking on her chair impatiently.

Jubilee glances at Midge as she carefully unlatches the case. “Remember that guy from last week?” she asks breezily, nonchalant. She leaves the violin on the floor, knowing how excited Midge can get.

“The one that left the magic hickey? Of course!”

She pretends to fiddle with her music, biting her lip to hide a smile. “He’s a Serpent.”

The sound that escapes Midge is scandalized. She presses her hand to her chest, her jaw dropping in absolute delight. “A bad boy,” she says in awe, looking like she’s going to squeal in excitement. “And I’m guessing dear old dad doesn’t know?”

“Nope.” Jubilee returns Midge’s grin as self-satisfaction creeps through her. That little thrill she felt the other day hasn’t gone anywhere. “And I need to keep it that way.”

At that, Midge raises a brow, watching Jubilee curiously as she continues to flip through her music. “And how, pray tell, would Mr. Jones find out about your little rendezvous at the club? Unless…” she trails off, then gasps as it hits her. “Oh my God!”

A giggle spills from Jubilee before she can stop it. “Jughead may have walked in on us the other day at the Wyrm.” The look on his face when he saw her with Sweet Pea definitely makes up for his shitty timing. At a least a little bit. An orgasm from a sexy biker in an alley might be temporary, but scarring her brother is for life.

She chooses not to mention that her dreams have only escalated since that night. Or that Sweet Pea all but confirmed that he’s the cause of them. She still can’t quite understand it herself, and she really doesn’t need Midge’s supernatural insights on the matter.

Midge leans back in her chair and clasps her hands together, holding them up to her mouth. “You tracked him down?” she asks just a little too loud, gaining the attention of one of the cellists walking by. He sends them an odd look, but Midge doesn’t pay him any attention as she beams at Jubilee. “Oh my god,” she repeats, wiggling in her seat excitedly. “And right outside your dad’s front door? Damn, way to stick it to the man.”

Jubilee shakes her head, but doesn’t try to stifle her grin. She can always count on Midge to be her own personal cheerleader when it comes to things like this.

A sly look crosses Midge’s face as Jubilee pulls her violin from its case. “So,” she starts, staring at Jubilee expectantly. “Are you going to see the sexy Serpent again?”

Her stomach flips pleasantly at the thought, but she tries not to let it show. “It’s not like I got his number, Midge.” Though, she does know where to find him. Something about that makes it all the more tempting.

_Next time_.

Groaning, Midge’s expression melts into one of disappointment. “You didn’t get his number? You’re hopeless. How am I supposed to live vicariously through you when you do shit like this?”

“You love me.”

Midge makes a sound of agreement. “At least tell me he fucked you good before your brother walked in.” Jubilee purses her lips and sends Midge a look. “Oh, honey, you really need to get laid,” she says sympathetically, reaching over to pat Jubilee on the shoulder. “And your hand doesn’t count.”

Jubilee flashes a wicked smile as Midge stands from her chair. “Good thing I have a vibrator then.”

They both crack up as Lydia suddenly bursts in from off-stage, her face flushed red and her violin clutched close to her chest. Reggie must have dropped her off.

“Hey, guys!” she greets as she drops into the chair Midge was previously occupying. The cellist simply waves before practically skipping back to her own seat as their conductor makes his way to the front.

“Hey, Lyds,” Jubilee murmurs back, unable to wipe the easy smile from her face as rehearsal begins.

* * *

“Seven. Corner pocket,” Sweet Pea calls, angling his pool cue before taking the shot. The ball rolls smoothly, ending up right where he wants it, and he grins as he straightens, ready to wipe the table clean.

A few tables away, a blonde woman watches him, sipping on something fruity that he can smell all the way across the room. Her gaze burns against his back, and idle fingers toy with the straw in her drink. Sweet Pea offers her a quick glance before turning back to the game.

Fangs groans from across the pool table. “Dammit,” he murmurs, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “You never let me win.” He’s practically pouting, looking more like a kicked puppy than a grown man.

Chuckling, Sweet Pea walks around the table. He doesn’t bother calling out as he takes his shot at the eight ball as well, winning the game. “Where’s the fun in that?” he asks, smirking at Fangs, who only sighs in response. Sweet Pea claps him on the shoulder, tossing an arm around his neck as they both set aside their pool sticks.

“Drinks are on you,” Sweet Pea continues, already leading Fangs over to the bar. He’s been tense all morning and could use something to loosen him up a little. Hunger gnaws at his stomach, but he brushes it aside, gritting his teeth. He hasn’t been able to feed yet since Saturday night, and the effects are finally starting to get to him.

At the mention of drinks, Fangs sends him a baffled look. “Don’t you have work this afternoon?” he asks. His lips quirk at the corners.

Sweet Pea snorts, rolling his eyes. “One beer won’t kill me.” He’ll hardly feel it later. “And you’re not getting out of this. Pay up or buy, your choice.”

Fangs groans again, but allows Sweet Pea to shove him towards the bar and onto the nearest stool. The bartender, Hog Eye, barely spares them a look as he slides two bottles their way, and Fangs slaps down cash on the bar top, looking at it mournfully as he cracks open his beer.

They drink in silence for a moment, and Sweet Pea’s gaze sweeps around the bar. The Wyrm is mostly empty this early in the day, but there are a few Serpents milling around and plenty of faces he doesn’t recognize. Exactly what he needs right now.

“Have any appointments today?”

His gaze snaps back to Fangs, who watches him out of the corner of his eye carefully. He shakes his head as he takes a drink. The bitter taste washes over his tongue and burns his throat. “It’s slow today. Isaac’s there by himself right now. Figured he could hold it down until I get in later.”

Fangs raises a brow. “Can Isaac hold down anything?” he jokes.

Isaac is just barely nineteen and as big of a troublemaker as Sweet Pea was at his age. He couldn’t be trusted with shit back then, but Isaac wants to learn to tattoo, and he knows better than to fuck anything up at Sweet Pea’s shop.

He glances at Fangs and grins. “Nah, that’s why Dexy’s with him.”

“So,” Fangs starts casually after his laughter subsides, absentmindedly picking at the label on his drink, “what about that girl?” His expression turns sly, the hint of a smirk on his lips as he eyes his friend.

Sweet Pea nearly chokes on his drink. His grip tightens around his beer bottle, but he masks his expression before Fangs can see his eyes widen. “What girl?” he asks, playing dumb. He thought Fangs would have been too damn wasted to remember anything that happened Saturday night, but apparently not.

“Oh, no, no, no!” Fangs shakes his head and twists in his seat to face Sweet Pea directly. “You avoided the question last time. _Now_ you have to answer me.”

Sighing, Sweet Pea leans forward. A lick of heat settles in his stomach just like it did the other night. It’s been almost two days, but the taste of her is still fresh on his tongue, and the feel of her pressed up against him crackles across his skin like electricity.

He clears his throat. “Doesn’t matter,” he says, shoving the fantasy of her hot and wet and begging for more aside. It’s a pretty picture, but one he needs to forget.

“Really?” Fangs says. There’s a skeptical look on his face, and he narrows his eyes at Sweet Pea as he takes another drink, nursing his beer. “Because I’ve never seen _anyone_ storm in here like that and sweep you away so easily. Which means you knew her.” A smug smile spreads across Fangs’ face.

Sweet Pea drums his fingers against the bar top. “We met Friday night,” he says, shrugging. Hopefully Fangs will just drop it. The less he knows, the better. Fangs has a big mouth, especially when he’s drunk, and Sweet Pea doesn’t need FP finding out about what happened. He has a reputation when it comes women and breaking hearts, and he’s sure the older Serpent wouldn’t take kindly to Sweet Pea fucking around with his daughter. Besides, he already has Jughead on his case, which is irritating enough.

Fangs doesn’t look impressed with his explanation. “I thought you never hooked up with the same girl twice.”

Neither did he. And yet, he can hear himself whispering “next time” in her ear, and he hates himself a little for that. He doesn’t do next times. That’s not how things work. Not for him anyway. His stomach churns a little at the thought, and he goes back to scanning the bar for new faces.

“I don’t,” he bites out. “I owed her a favor.” It’s about as close to the truth as he can say.

Fangs snorts loudly, his eyes rolling dramatically. “Is that what you call it? A favor?” he asks, sarcasm practically dripping from the question. Chuckling to himself, Fangs shakes his head. “You planning on seeing her again?”

Sweet Pea shoots him a look.

“What? She was hot!” Fangs defends himself. “And kind of scary, to be honest. Sounds like your type.”

“I don’t have a type,” Sweet Pea reminds him. A pretty blonde from across the room catches his eye, and a slow smile pulls at his lips. She was making eyes at him earlier when they were playing pool, and judging by the way she takes her bottom lip between her teeth and bats her eyelashes at him, he’d say she’s still interested.

He finishes off his beer and stands from the bar.

Fangs follows his gaze and huffs. “Oh, come on, man, it’s hardly noon.”

Sweet Pea claps him on the shoulder. “Never too early, Fangs,” he corrects. “Thanks for the beer.” Fangs mumbles a reply, but Sweet Pea isn’t listening, entirely focused on the woman across the bar and the growing need clawing at his stomach.

“Buy you a drink?” he asks as he reaches her, leaning forward and bracing his forearms against the table across from her. The pretty blonde that’s been eyeing him all morning looks almost smug, her eyelashes fluttering at him as her red lips curve into a smile. It’s early to be drinking, and she already has some fruity cocktail sitting on the table in front of her, but they both know that’s not why he’s here.

Slowly, she leans forward, eyes raking down his frame, lingering on the tattoos barely peeking out above his shirt and his broad shoulders. A look he’s familiar with flickers in her eyes, something approving that makes his blood boil.

They don’t linger at the bar for long. She doesn’t introduce herself, and neither does he. Her drink is left untouched as she grabs his hand, lacing her fingers through his and leading him away towards the bathroom in the back. Sweet Pea allows her to pull him away from the main room, just like he always does in situations like this.

The door to the women’s restroom is kicked open, and immediately he has her pressed up against the bathroom door, his mouth on hers as she grabs at his shoulders. His jacket. His hair. Anything she can hold onto as he reaches behind her to lock the door behind them, leaving the lights off.

In the dark, her hair and eyes look darker, nearly black, and it almost makes him pause as his thoughts shift to someone else. But her hair is too straight and the taste that bursts across his tongue when it slides across the seam of her lips is too bitter. There’s none of the sweetness from the other night. Not that he cares either way.

She moans against his ear when his mouth moves to her neck, his teeth scraping across her skin. His hands find her ass, and he smothers the sound she makes as he lifts her off her feet. Long legs wrap around his hips, pulling him closer, and he nearly growls as she rolls against his stiff cock.

His jacket is shoved from his shoulders, bunching at his elbows, and Sweet Pea releases her long enough to let it fall to the floor. Her shirt follows. His mouth finds her breast easily in the dark, and she _whimpers_. Already he can smell her arousal in the air, thick and musky, and it only intensifies as he shoves her short skirt up over her hips and grinds against her dampened panties.

She breathes a muffled “please” against him, little coos and gasps slipping from that pretty mouth with each rough scrape of his mouth against her chest and neck. He could keep her waiting. Make her beg for it. Or he could make this quick and easy.

The jingle of his belt is loud, and her breath catches as it clatters against the tile floor.

Sweet Pea shoves her underwear aside quickly as he fishes a condom from his back pocket. With practiced ease he slips it on, stroking his own cock slowly as she squirms against his front, needy and wet.

When he slips his cock inside her, she moans against his ear, her nails biting into his shoulders almost painfully. Her pleasure echoes through him as her pussy squeezes around him, but it’s dull, laced with no satisfaction of his own. Moans fill the bathroom with each rough thrust as he picks up a fast pace, but he doesn’t give a shit who hears them.

He busies himself with tasting the salt on her skin, letting primal instinct take over, losing himself in the heat clawing at his insides, unsure how long it lasts.

Eventually, he slips a hand between them, rubbing fast circles over her clit. Her back arches with a squeal, her muscles tensing around him. Her hands fist in his hair, and he grunts as her orgasm washes through him, a tingling sensation moving through his limbs and down his back. He follows a second behind her, spilling into the condom with a low moan.

“Are you doing anything later?” she asks after he’s pulled out and she’s caught her breath, sliding her skirt back down over her hips and fixing her top. Her lipstick is smudged and her hair is a mess, her pupils blown wide with lingering arousal.

Sweet Pea barely spares her a look as he buttons his jeans and slides his belt back on. “Working,” he says shortly. “I’m there all afternoon. In the dark, he reaches for his jacket laying crumpled in a heap on the dirty floor ,and his jaw clenches in distaste. The rose inked into his forearm shifts suddenly, almost quivering as a delicate petal falls from the design and disappears from his skin like smoke. A breath hisses from between his teeth as the tattoo settles again, looking duller than before, despite his recent feeding.

Quickly, he shrugs on his jacket, hiding it from sight.

The blonde doesn’t take the hint. She purses her lips almost like a pout and makes a show of batting her eyelashes at him in a flirty little display. “And after?” she asks suggestively, checking him out again.

This time, he doesn’t look at her. “Busy.” Before she can say anything else, he unlocks the bathroom door and slips outside.

* * *

A slow, winding melody sweeps through the room as Jubilee drags her bow across the violin’s strings in time with the rest of the orchestra: an achingly sweet note that hangs heavy in the air long after they’ve finished.

The director ends the song with a flourish of his hands, and the music decrescendos into silence that rings hollow through the auditorium. The quiet is startling after over two hours of rehearsal, and Jubilee shivers at the chill it leaves down her spine. The director congratulates them all, but says little before allowing them to pack up, simply informing them of the afternoon rehearsal scheduled for Saturday afternoon. From across the room, Midge rolls her eyes, and Jubilee bites back a smile.

At least that might get her out of a late dinner with her family, if nothing else.

Jubilee carefully lowers her violin into its case, the glossy surface reflecting the overhead lights. She snaps the case shut before gathering her sheet music and slipping it into her folder.

Beside her, Lydia glances at Jubilee as she puts away her own instrument and music. “So how was the rest of your weekend?” she asks far too casually, a teasing smile on her face.

She’s probably wondering if Jubilee’s received anymore “ghost” hickeys since Friday night, and Jubilee has no idea how to explain that things have escalated quite a bit since then. Lydia would be positively aghast if she found out any of it.

Stalling as she thinks of an answer, Jubilee glances around the room and snorts as Midge stumbles towards them, hardly visible behind her cello.

“Good,” she finally tells Lydia. “Pretty boring. I mostly slept off the hangover and watched Netflix.”

Someone scoffs behind her. “That’s not what you told me.” Midge sets her cello down between them, leaning against it with a smirk. “Remember tall, dark, and sexy?” she asks Lydia.

Jubilee groans and grabs her things, starting to speed walk out of the auditorium.

“Apparently he’s a Serpent,” Midge continues despite Jubilee’s pout as she and Lydia hurry to keep up. “She tracked him down and tried to bang him in an alley.” The end is muffled by Midge’s laughter, but not enough.

Lydia looks at her with a horrified gasp. “Jubilee!”

“What!” she defends as she pushes open the doors to the waiting area, slowing down enough for them to walk either side of her. “He’s hot, and I’m single. Which means I’m _allowed_ to touch and lick anyone I want.”

“You do a lot of licking?” Midge asks her.

“Who are we licking?” a bewildered voice asks them. The three women stop, looking up to find Lydia’s boyfriend Reggie standing in front of them, his arms crossed and an amused look on his face, one eyebrow quirked upwards.

Jubilee snorts. “Certainly not you, Mantle.” As hot as Reggie is, he’s way too much of a pretty boy for her tastes. He looks like he should model underwear in his free time instead of working at a car dealership.

With a gasp, he presses a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Ouch,” he jokes. “I’m a catch!”

“You’re also taken,” she reminds him as Lydia slides up to his side and wraps her arms around her. Automatically, Reggie’s arm settles around her shoulders and he pulls her just a little bit closer. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay?”

“You want a ride?” Lydia asks. “We can stop and eat on the way.”

Midge mumbles her agreement, still struggling beneath the size of her instrument, but Jubilee shakes her head. “Pass. Reggie looks like he’s ready for some quality Lydia lovin’, and I don’t want to see that.”

Before she can leave, Reggie stops her with a hand on her arm. “There’s someone waiting outside for you,” he tells her, making her brows furrow in confusion. “Dark hair,” he continues, “leather jacket. I didn’t get a name.”

A Serpent then, but not her brother. Reggie and Jughead have met, and there’s no way Jughead would show up here without calling first or sending her dozens of texts complaining about having to wait for her. For a second, her thoughts drift to this weekend and her little rendezvous, and her chest tightens, but she brushes the thought aside immediately. There’s no way he knows where to find her. She never mentioned anything to him about being a musician. But then, he isn’t exactly a normal man either.

She swallows down the concoction of nerves and something else building in her throat and straightens her back. “Thanks, Reggie.” Jubilee offers him a small, somewhat strained smile and gathers her things. A shiver curls down her back at the thought of him tracking her down.

Lydia and Reggie exchange a glance, and he clears his throat to catch her attention. “Want me to walk you out?”

The offer makes her snort. Reggie may have the body of a Greek God, but he’s not exactly intimidating. And his face is way too pretty to see beat up.

“Nah, I think I can handle it,” she tells them. A smile curves at her lips at the blatant concern on Lydia’s face, and Jubilee hoists her things higher over her shoulder. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay?”

Lydia’s green eyes narrow almost dangerously and she crosses her arms. “You better call me when you get home.” It’s not a suggestion.

Jubilee rolls her eyes, but nods her agreement, giving them a small wave as she walks backwards away from them, heading for the front doors.

“Go for the balls if he’s a dick!” Midge calls as soon as her back is turned.

There’s a scandalized reprimand from Lydia that’s muffled by Reggie laughing, and Jubilee smothers her own laughter as she hurries out the doors.

As soon as the crisp autumn air greets her, she sobers. Jubilee pulls her leather jacket tighter around herself, though it’s not because of the cold. Her grip tightens on her violin case as her gaze sweeps across the front steps of the hall, searching for dark hair and leather and a heartbreaker smile.

And she finds him leaning back against the low stone wall at the top of the landing, bored and playing with his phone as he waits off to one side for her to come out, clothed in a plain leather jacket and ripped jeans. But it’s not who she was expecting.

“Joaquin?”

His head snaps up at the call of his name, and bright blue eyes lock with hers. Immediately, a wide smile stretches across his face. He shoves his phone into his pocket, and straightens as she crosses the short distance between them, her heels making a soft clicking sound against the stone floors.

“Hey, JJ,” he says as soon as she’s close enough, and then she’s being pulled into a tight hug that only lasts for a moment before he releases her again. His smile turns wry, and his eyes flicker with amusement. “Heard you’ve been causing trouble,” he jokes.

For a second, she thinks he means her little hookup the other night, but there’s nothing but mischief in his gaze.

“Always am.” She fiddles with the handle of her violin case, shifting on her feet. “How’ve you’ve been?” she asks him, looking him over again. “How’s Kevin?” It’s been a while since she’s seen either of them. They’ve been busy lately, and so has she.

A goofy grin flits across his face at the mention of his boyfriend. “Good,” he tells her, clearing his throat. “We’re good. He’s been busy. Some couple wants their wedding in December, so he’s been planning that for them. Somehow I got roped into helping.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

He chuckles, and she takes a step back, nodding towards the steps. Joaquin pushes away from the wall to walk with her. “What are you doing here?” Jubilee asks as they head down the steps to the sidewalk, peering up at him curiously.

It’s not that she’s not happy to see him, but usually, he doesn’t show up at her work like this. Unless it’s important. She tenses at the thought.

Noticing this, Joaquin bumps his shoulder against hers as soon as they reach the sidewalk, nearly knocking her over. “Well,” he begins loudly as he shoves his hands into his pockets, “my boyfriend is busy looking at venues with a very excited Italian couple, and I knew you didn’t have anything going on this afternoon so…” he trails off, looking down at her expectantly.

So he figured he would bother her instead. “What makes you think I’m not busy?” she asks in mock offense. He always makes it sound like she doesn’t have any hobbies. Or friends, despite the fact that they’ve known each other for over a decade.

“It’s Monday,” he says, shrugging. When she just stares back at him, he elaborates, “I happen to know that all you do on Monday’s is binge watch firefighter shows, drink wine, and make yourself sad after rehearsal is over.”

Jubilee swats at him with her free hand, and he chuckles as the back of her hand smacks against his shoulder. “That is _not_ true!” The mock offense on her face only makes him laugh harder. “Joaquin, that’s not true!”

“It is!” He snickers as she pouts. “I’ve known you since we were like twelve, and that’s literally what you do.”

Begrudgingly, she has to admit that he’s right. She glares at him for a second longer before sighing in defeat. “Ugh, fine.” Her sour expression melts away. “You can buy me lunch.”

He hums his agreement. “Only if you buy the drinks.”

She raises a brow at that. It’s barely even noon yet. “Don’t you have work later?” She could have sworn he works afternoons during the week at some tattoo parlor downtown. While she hasn’t been there yet, she’s heard good things about the shop from Joaquin and Kevin.

“Probably.”

Jubilee laughs as he tosses his arm around her shoulders, letting him lead her away from the direction of her apartment.

“So, when was the last time you were in a tattoo parlor?” Joaquin asks her, checking his phone as they walk down the street and deftly avoiding everyone else. His shift starts in less than twenty minutes, and their lunch ran longer than Jubilee was expecting it to. But she and Joaquin haven’t seen each other in a few weeks now; they had some catching up to do.

Jubilee releases a slow, heavy breath, trying to remember how long ago it must have been now. “Oh, I don’t know. Spring break, third year of college?” she guesses, her brows furrowing. “When we all drove down to Jersey in your ugly van and nearly ended up stranded.”

Recognition flits across his face. “I think I remember _most_ of that night.” He chuckles and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Was it you or Jughead that got a tattoo on their ass?”

“I thought that was you.”

Joaquin shakes his head and wrinkles his nose. “Kevin would have killed me if I got a tattoo on my ass,” he informs her. “Like, _actually_ killed me.”

She scoffs at that. “Oh, please,” she huffs. “You’re so dramatic. Kevin doesn’t have a mean bone in his body.”

Kevin Keller was nothing but sweet and a little awkward when they met him back in high school. He was going to the same school as Jubilee back then, also part of the music program, and he and Joaquin met at their sophomore showcase. They danced around each other until senior year before finally getting together, and it’s been that way ever since.

“Did you even get anything that night?” Joaquin asks, frowning as he tries to remember. That night is a blur for most of them. “Because I swear all you have is that treble clef on the back of your neck. Which I gave you by the way.” He reaches out to poke the ink on the back of her neck, neatly hidden by her hair.

She cringes away from his cold hands and shoves him away. “Yeah, well, snooty old men said I’m not allowed to have them because I’m a professional.”

“If they can’t see them…” he trails, wiggling his eyebrows dramatically. She can practically see the thought swirling through his mind as he glances down at her covered torso, thinking of all the easy spots to hide a tattoo. He’s been trying to give her more ink for years.

Jubilee levels him with a warning look. “You’re not giving me a tattoo today.”

He just smirks as they reach the front of the shop, _Black Velvet Ink_ scrawled across the windows in a delicate script. “We’ll see about that.”

Her expression sobers as he reaches for the front door to let them in. As fun as this afternoon has been, there’s still something not sitting right with her. He’s always been terrible at keeping secrets, at least from her. He tends to get fidgety when he does, and talks way too much. Ever since he showed up outside of the orchestra hall this afternoon, she knew there was something going on, but she doesn’t know what.

“Okay, spill it,” Jubilee says suddenly. Joaquin stops just short of the door and glances back at her, raising a confused brow but waiting for her to continue. “Why’d you really want to talk?” His eyes widen slightly in surprise, and she snorts, crossing her arms now that her hands are free. “Come on, Joaquin,” she chastises gently, “you’re really not that subtle.”

For a second, he looks like he’s not going to answer her, but then he sighs, ruffling his dark hair. “Jughead called me the other day,” he tells her, and Jubilee rolls her eyes. “Said you were at the Wyrm on Saturday with some Serpent?”

She bites her tongue to keep from asking if he’s being intentionally vague or if Jughead didn’t say who. A part of her wants to know more about Sweet Pea, and Joaquin would be more likely to answer her than Jughead, even if it’s to tell her something she doesn’t want to hear. “Are you going to lecture me too?”

This time, it’s his turn to snort. Joaquin crosses his arms, mirroring her position and sending her sending her a look like she should know better than to ask that. “No,” he promises, sincerity flickering in those dark blue eyes, “but I do want you to be careful.” When she makes a face, he takes a step towards her and lowers his voice. “Look, most Serpents are good guys, but they’re not exactly the dating type.”

As if she needed to be told that. She didn’t go to the Wyrm looking for anything permanent. “This coming from the guy that’s been in a steady relationship for like seven years,” she retorts, sarcasm practically dripping from her tongue. Joaquin rolls his eyes and Jubilee sighs. “Besides, we just needed to talk, that’s all.”

It sounds like a lie, even to her, and Joaquin looks like he wants to laugh.

“Really?” he starts, a teasing note to his voice. “Because from what Jughead said you two were getting a little busy behind the Wyrm. Pretty ballsy considering your dad was right in the other room.”

“Well you know I can’t resist a hot guy in leather.” The tension drains away as he chuckles, and her lips curve into a small smile.

“Just take care of yourself, okay?”

“I always do.”

Joaquin glances over his shoulder at the door to the shop, then back to Jubilee. “You wanna come in with me? Hang out for a bit?” he asks. “I wanna show you what I’ve been working on for JB.”

Right. Her very first tattoo. Joaquin was honored when JB asked him to design one for her, and JB was practically giddy, though her birthday isn’t for another few weeks. Jubilee promised to go with her when she gets it.

“Of course, I want to see,” she says.

Joaquin grins as he throws open the door to the shop, gesturing for her to walk in first.

It doesn’t take long for Joaquin to dig out the sketch he’s made. It’s messy and littered with erased lines and notes written in Joaquin’s scrawling handwriting, but she recognizes the watercolor design, an intricate geometric shape bursting with color.

“So, what do you think?” Joaquin asks as she looks it over. “It’s really rough right now, but it won’t take much to clean it up and make it workable.”

Jubilee nods as she slides the sketch back to him. “I think she’ll love it. You did—”

“Joaquin!” a low, rough voice shouts from the back of the shop, cutting her off. Both she and Joaquin snap around as someone comes out of one of the workstations to the front of the shop. “Do you know where—”

Dark eyes lock on Jubilee, widening slightly, and her breath hitches.

Joaquin waves them over. “Hey, man,” he greets, leaning back in his chair. “This is Jubilee. She’s an old friend of mine and wanted to hang out for a bit.” He glances at her. “JJ, this is—”

“Sweet Pea,” she finishes for him, staring at the tall Serpent standing just a few feet away, his gaze burning into her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and be sure to scream at me in the comments over that cliffhanger ;)


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